


Mourning Song.

by Cliff



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Case Fic, Crime Scenes, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:17:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliff/pseuds/Cliff
Summary: Another horrifying case involving children soon after the Atlanta murders proves to be an eye opener for Bill.





	1. The Lamb White Days.

** _And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows_ **

** _In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs_ **

** _Before the children green and golden_ **

** _Follow him out of grace._ **

** _Fern Hill- Dylan Thomas_ **

It would be a long time before Bill put two and two together. When he finally saw it, and couldn’t un-see it, he wondered how he'd missed it. He reproached himself afterwards. How could he have been so inattentive? He was heading a fucking unit hinging on psychological profiling for christ’s sake! It not only made him question his professionalism but his merit as a colleague and, dare he say it, friend. He should have noticed his own partner in the field struggling. 

Last year Holden’s increasing cockiness had obscured it. He had really assumed it was nothing but arrogance motivating the younger agent at the time. His obsession with cases that weren’t even in their purview, that they had no business interfering with. Twice Holden had dragged the FBI into situations like that. Bill had never stopped to _really _ask why.

He remembered Holden defending his actions over that damn foot tickling school principal to Shepard.

_“I was worried about children!” _

Bill had been eager to write it off as hubris. Because Holden wasn’t a family man. He was too immature to truly worry like parent would worry. 

_What if some guy were tickling Brian's feet?_

Bill had been genuinely angry at that - _Don’t bring by kid into this!_

It had pissed him off that Holden, of all people, was essentially accusing him of social irresponsibility. He wondered, in retrospect. Why hadn’t he been as worried as Holden? Because Holden was right… In a trade off between an innocent guy losing his job and reputation, and the possibility of hundreds of kids being molested…He knew, deep down, that the risk was too great...But it still hadn’t been any of their business. He had his own kid to worry about. Jesus. Back then he’d only been worried about Brian’s attitude and personality.

He had no idea what he was in for. 

Six weeks after Atlanta and Nancy was finally speaking to him again and letting him see Brian. He took the kid every weekend, back to his sparse, crappy apartment. Brian hated it there and unholy tantrums ensued. Bill had no idea how to handle the kid anymore. His own dad would have clobbered him. He wasn’t going to do that, and he knew it wouldn’t help anyway. Now that the mandated therapy was over ,Nancy seemed to be in denial that there was anything really wrong with their son. _“He’s just a little different.”_ She’d say. Reminding him of what many a well meaning parent of a future psychopath says.

_Don’t think that. He’s not like them. This is something else._

So maybe he had noticed. If he was honest. But he’d been struggling too, and after Atlanta his life had fallen apart. He hadn’t been thinking about Holden, or anyone else, for a time.

It was pretty clear with hindsight that Holden did worry though. He worried a lot, particularly about kids. The Atlanta cases had taken a lot out of all of them, but particularly the youngest agent. Since the cases had been closed Holden had seemed… Shrunken… Diminished somehow. As though he’d taken on responsibility for the entire agency’s failure. He’d come to work, carry out interviews, diligently write up his transcripts, attend meetings. But gone was his flare for lateral thinking, his spark of humour.

Bill hadn’t realised that he was still suffering from panic attacks. He’d just found him on the floor of the office bathroom, hyperventilating. Curled in a ball. 

“Shit! Holden!” He sat down beside him and moved Holden’s head off the filthy floor and onto his lap, wrapping his arms around the agent’s shoulders.

Holden was whimpering with each breath. “C…C…An’t… Br…Br…”

After searching Holden’s pockets for pills, and finding nothing, Bill did the only thing he could think of. He rubbed Holden’s back and spoke to him quietly. It reminded him of nothing as much as holding Brian though one of his freak-outs.

“Yes… Yes you can. You know what this is. It’s happened before… It’s just a panic attack.” Bill said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “Just close your eyes and imagine you’re…on a… A safe, warm, beautiful beach… And the sun is shining on you.” 

After what felt like forever, Holden’s breathing began to slow down and gave way to the telltale hitching that betrayed tears. _Shit… What’s with you kid? _

Bill looked up to see Wendy looking down at them. She must’ve heard something. _Could be worse, it could’ve been Greg_. All they needed was Gregg running upstairs to tattle on them. He doubted this would be something they could keep out of Holden’s file.

He shrugged at Wendy as he rubbed Holden’s back, letting him sob. A twitch of distress fluttered across her face before she turned and left quietly. 

Later, in her office, a shamefaced Holden sat beside Bill, muttering apologies. 

“Theres nothing to be ashamed of.” Wendy told him, ever practical. “It’s just your body having and exaggerated physiological response to stress… It’s to be expected that the work we do will take some kind of toll on our nerves eventually… I know a good therapist… If you want to talk to someone?”

Bill noticed Holden tense beside him before speaking hesitantly, not making eye contact once. 

“Um… Wendy… What if it got out… You know that a member of the BSU. The people who interview killers…Who everyone looks sideways at because what they do isn’t hard science yet…Was… Well.. Crazy? I… I should resign… I’m obviously not fit…”

“You’re not crazy.” Bill told him. It’s just… The job. The stress you’ve been under… Atlanta."

At the word he saw Holden flinch slightly.

“Besides… without you this whole experiment is over Holden. We need you.” 

“Yeah well… We haven’t accomplished all that much have we?” He whispered, tremors passing through his jaw.

_I saw Soldiers act like this after Korea… In psych wards. Thought_ Bill… _Here was me thinking he wasn’t affected enough by this sick shit._

“And don’t you dare say we haven’t accomplished anything! We got a killer off the streets.” He added.

Holden inhaled as though he were about to speak and then thought better of it. Retreating back into the uncharacteristic and disturbing silence that had surrounded him for weeks. 

“You’ve been showing signs of depression since Atlanta.” Wendy said bluntly. “Your anxiety is obviously worse than ever… Are you still taking Valium?” 

“Um… No. I was… Well… You know it’s addictive right? I could feel myself… _Needing_ it… So I stopped.” 

Wendy raised her eyebrows in alarm. “You shouldn’t stop it suddenly like that. You need to taper it off… Besides, you ought to have it just for emergencies.” 

“Yeah but…”

“But what?”

“But it happens all the fucking time.” He mumbled, playing with his cuff. “I could be having ‘emergencies’ several times a day”. 

“Shit Holden. Why didn’t you say something?” Bill chewed his lip, feeling a little bit of panic of his own.

“I…There was so much happening with the case and all… Then… I mean, why would I? It’s my own fault I can’t keep my shit together.” 

“What happened today to set you off?” asked Bill

Holden swallowed a lump in his throat “I saw Ted Gunn in the hallway upstairs earlier.” 

“Oh?”

“He has a case for us… In Maine… It’s… Fuck Bill! It’s fucking murdered kids again... little boys”

“Fuck!”

“They found one body and there’s another missing now. The don't want a repeat of Atlanta, it wouldn't look good, so they're calling us in now."

“Holden.” Wendy interjected. “Its not a good idea for you to take this on. It doesn’t have to be your case.”

“ Yeah .” He replied, getting up. “It does… Because, whether I like it or not, we’re the ones with the skills to catch this bastard and I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise.” 

As he shut the office door behind him Bill and Wendy stared at each other for a long moment. 

“ Well…” Bill said. “This is going to be terrible.”

“Well if it’s going to be terrible, It would be pretty selfish of me to stay behind in my comfortable office again wouldn’t it?” Wendy replied. 

“You’re coming? Good luck convincing Gunn.”

“Essential field research.” She replied. “ For the future of the unit.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting this to be multi chapter but here we are. Wish me luck.


	2. Huntsman and Herdsman.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team arrives in Maine

Maine in Fall. It really was as beautiful as everyone said. stunning red’s yellows and oranges flooded Wendy’s senses. As they drove into She often had trouble shutting out all the stimuli around her but right now she didn’t care. She was finally out in the field, travelling with her fellow agents and in a fascinating environment… Away from her life, and her heart. 

She briefly had to remind herself she wasn’t here for pleasure. One look at Holden Ford’s face in the rear view mirror did the job. She genuinely didn’t like seeing him this pale and exhausted. It had been a long drive and they were all about ready to lie down. But he’d looked shattered since that morning. Had he slept? Had he had another panic attack before work? He didn’t say a word the entire trip unless he was spoken to. Just stared out the window, like his mind was a million miles away. 

Bill had to slam on breaks, jolting her out of her reverie. Three children on bikes swerved out into the road without looking. 

“Hey! You wanna get knocked down?” Bill scolded as they took off. 

“Sorry Mister!” 

They pulled up outside the hotel, She, Bill and Holden got out and unloaded the bags. _The Maple Leaf._ It had a hand painted sign. Charming. 

They checked in and ascended in the rickety old elevator. She noted that Bill and Holden had a room together, across the hall from her, despite the budget clearly stretching to three. Maybe it was just as well. She wanted eyes on Ford. She wondered if Bill had arranged that on purpose.

The young man wasn’t ok. Not by a long shot. Then again, were any of them, really? Bill’s marriage had dissolved and his child was suffering. Meanwhile she was a disaster in every sense besides professional… And one slip of the tongue could kill that too. She was lucky they took her “Dyke Story.” As a fabrication. Imagine the reaction if it was discovered that she’ the scientific and psychological bedrock of the BSU was suffering from a _sexual orientation disorder_. A deviancy that would surely discredit her work among the conservative Hoover crowd.

She wondered what would happen if Bill or Holden ever found out. How quickly would their respect for her vanish if they knew?

She put her case on the bed and looked out the window at thesunset on the wood shingled roofs of the small town of Oakdale. Kids yelled happily outside on the street.

“Seriously Holden just relax! I’ve got this!”

She opened her door to to find Bill and Holden arguing in the hallway. 

“You don’t have to babysit me Bill! It’s my job.”

“It’s _our_ job and there’s no need for all of us to go down. You and Wendy rest, maybe get a drink at the bar. I’ll fetch the files and bring them back here. We can go over them together.”

“Are you heading to the station?” She asked. “I’ll come.” She was curious to see how local law enforcement was reacting to the case.

“Well if Wendy’s going I’m definitely going.” Said Holden firmly. 

Bill Shrugged “Suit yourselves. I’m gonna bring the files back anyway. I just thought I’d get a bead on the chief and see where we’ll be working from.”

“I’d like to start first thing tomorrow.” Holden said “Best to get the introductions over with tonight.”

He stifled a yawn as they walked down the hall. Bill cast a worried glance over his shoulder. 

xxxxxxxxxx

The case file of the murdered boy was as horrifying as could be expected. Bill looked nauseated as he passed it to Wendy. 

Two weeks ago twelve year old Bobby Scarsdale had been out riding his bike on the first day of Fall Break. He’d eaten his breakfast and his mother had reminded him to take his hat. He was seen by the postman heading over the bridge and had been hooted at by Laura Fisher, one of the neighbours. Because, according to Laura, the boy wasn’t looking where he was going and almost went into her car at the junction. He had waved at her. He was wearing fingerless gloves. 

That was the last time he was seen alive. 

He was found three days later in a shallow grave in the woods between Oakdale and Conway’s Gap. He’d been raped and strangled, so frenzied and violent was the attack that the boys neck had been broken during the strangulation.

The night after the body was discovered, eleven year old Clive Conners disappeared, apparently taken from his own bed while his mother, a nurse, was working night shift at the old folk’s home. The town, and police had been in too much uproar and panic to do much. That was a week ago.

Wendy passed the file to Holden. He sat down at a desk and suddenly became very focused on it, pouring over each page slowly. 

Police Chief Wilson, a large man in his 60’s, seemed unusually affected by the case. He was having trouble looking at the pictures or discussing the injuries. It was understandable that cases involving children shook up small town law enforcement, they weren’t used to violent crimes. 

Then it occurred to her… _Of course._

“You knew him?”

The Chief turned to her in surprise. “ Excuse me Ma’am?”

“You knew Bobby?”

“Yes I did” he said sadly. “And Clive…I know all the kids in this town. I used to go down to the school and teach ‘em not to take candy from strangers and stuff like that. But I’ve known the Conners and Scarsdales all my life. I used to be friends with Clive’s dad before he passed… I’ll be honest I’m pretty shaken up by this one. His Mother is… Well you’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s beyond devastated. Three years ago she had a happy family, then her husband died of cancer… Now her son is missing…”

“It must be a waking nightmare for her." Agreed Bill. “What made you think an abduction over a runaway?” 

“You should have seen the state of the kid’s room.” Wilson passed Bill a set of photographs. “Turned upside down. Like a hurricane had come through. Broken furniture, blood.”

“How much blood?” Asked Bill. “Could he have survived?”

“Not his…Wrong type, there was smear on the bedside locker. I think the kid fought back and…

“Scratched the fucker. ” Finished Bill.

Wilson’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at Bill’s language. He stared at Wendy, expecting a scandalised reaction, she supposed. Oakdale was the kind of place where they didn’t have any women on the force yet. 

“Chief?” Asked Wendy. “Have there been any strange faces around town lately? Drifters, Hitchhikers?”

“A few, fall tourism is starting, but no one that stands out as suspicious. We’ve got eyes on all the roads in and out of town and we’ve been going through all the hotels and motels looking at their guest books.”

“You might be wasting your time” Holden muttered, still immersed in the file. “It’s more likely to be someone he knew… statistically.” Bill glared at him. _Must he alienate the local cops right away?_

Wilson frowned. “Agent… Ford is it? I’m sure that if there was a monster of this type living around here someone would have noticed by now. It’s not like he’d be quietly minding his own business for years then suddenly murder two kids is it?”

“Thats actually exactly what might happen.” Holden said, not looking up from the horrifying photographs. “A psychopath can live undetected for a lifetime until something triggers a murderous pathology… We call it a stressor.”

“A stressor?”

“Yes, the death of a family member, a divorce, loss of job.”

“So…” He looked nonplussed “You’re saying any number of regular citizens might be perverts. And live for years without acting on it?” 

“Um… No I wouldn’t say that… They might not murder anyone. But as far as sexual perversion goes…They might be acting on it for years undetected. You wouldn’t know unless a victim came forward.”

“Hell… I don’t know how to take that. I can’t just go around accusing local people of these crimes Agent Ford.”

Holden shrugged, turning a page. “It’s what the research would suggest.”

“Oh Hell!” Wilson went a little pale. Slapping his desk in frustration

“Whats wrong?” Asked Wendy.

“Well we’ve been looking for cars. Assuming a stranger took Clive out of town. When in fact, if you’re correct he’s more likely being kept somewhere locally.”

“Yup.” Said Holden. finally looking up from the file. “Can we interview the parents tomorrow?” Despite the terrible circumstances Wendy was pleased to see a little of his old enthusiasm for the work creeping back.

“What about other kids?” Asked Bill “Did the boys know each other? Did they have mutual friends we can talk to?”

“Safe to assume the boys knew each other” said Wilson. “All the kids in town hang out together, the school is small. I’ll get you the teacher and staff too.”

“Thank you… We’re going to do our best for you Chief. Let's find this bastard.”

“ Thank you Agent Tench. I hope so.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Given how exhausted he’d looked earlier Bill had honestly expected Holden to fall into bed as soon as they got back. Instead he was pouring over crime scene photos at the hotel desk at 11.30 pm, while Bill was ready to turn out the lights. Bill looked up from his book. 

“Holden… That doesn’t make for good bedtime reading.” 

“Hmmm?” Holden murmured. He was gone, absorbed in the horror show. 

“Holden.” Bill said again, patiently. “Get some sleep. We’ll need you at the top of your game tomorrow.”

Holden appeared not to have heard him. _Fuck this! You’re getting some sleep whether you like it or not. _Bill got out of bed with a groan, walked over to the desk and snatched the photographs out of Holden’s hands. He leaned over the younger man, getting in his face like he did when Brian wouldn’t acknowledge his existence. Holden jumped in surprise and looked up at him with an odd, fearful look… For a moment Bill thought he was going to have another panic attack. 

“Bed time.” He stated. The look on his face didn’t leave room for argument. “Shower, change, bed…Now.” 

Holden’s expression changed from anxiety to irritation. “Fuck you Bill! I’m not a child.” 

“Then stop acting like one and look after yourself.”

Holden obviously found that he couldn’t argue with that because he did get up and go into the ensuite. Soon after, Bill heard the shower running. He went back to bed, turned out his light and drifted off. 

The light woke him. He instinctively reached for his watch on the locker: 2.23 am. Holden was sitting up in his bed, pyjama clad this time, but still pouring over the photos.

“For fucks sake Holden!” He grumbled. “What the fuck are you doing looking at that sick shit instead of sleeping?”

Holden looked up briefly. “I can’t sleep. Theres something on the edge of my awareness. Some clue I’m not seeing. I have to…”

“Nope… No.” Bill got up, bleary eyed, and walked over to Holden’s bed. “You’re not going to do that.” He took the photos out of Holden’s resisting fingers, put them into his briefcase, and put the briefcase into his own bedside locker. Holden’s jaw dropped open in astonishment.

“You’re not going to be weird and obsessive and unable to function tomorrow. You’re going to turn off that that brain of yours for the next few hours.”

He walked back over to Holden’s bed with the intent of turning off the lamp, forcing him to sleep. But when he looked down he saw Holden’s pale face, and hurried breathing, and shaking hands… And the way he cringed away from Bill’s hand as he reached for the switch… _Shit._

“Breathe.” He said calmly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re safe.” He reached over and held Holden’s pulse, it was racing. “Look at me Holden… Can you understand me?” 

Holden stared at him, wide eyed, and eventually nodded his head.

“Deep breaths. Good, that’s it, you’re ok. You know where you are?”

Holden nodded again. His pulse finally slowing a bit.

“Do you know what time it is?”

He shook his head. “N… No?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I… I don’t remember… Not last night.”

Bill sighed. “Didn’t think so, listen, you need to talk to me. What set you off just now? Beside’s exhaustion?”

“I… I don’t really know… You were so… Mad, and… I can’t sleep.” Holden’s voice was a high, choked whisper, almost childlike. It bothered Bill intensely and he didn't know why.

“I’m not mad Holden. I’m tired, and so are you. Why can’t you sleep?”

“I… The case…” He broke off.He was wringing his hands. Bill couldn’t remember seeing him this distressed outside of a panic attack._What has you so spooked kid?_

“What about it?”

“J…Jesus Bill there’s a ten year old boy, and if he’s alive… Which I know is a long shot, but if he is… Then he’s out there somewhere. Terrified. Maybe he’s cold, or hungry or injured horribly or being r... God knows what that freak is doing to him!” Holden’s voice rose slightly in panic. “If I don’t figure it out… If I let it happen _again…”_

“Holden stop.” Bill rubbed his arm gently. “ We’ll get him… This isn’t only your responsibility…We’re all in this together… You, me, Wendy and the entire PD.”

Holden didn’t speak. He swallowed thickly, clearly determined not to cry in front of Bill again. 

“And guess what? Atlanta wasn’t your fuck up. You worked harder than anyone, you didn’t _let_ anything happen.”

“Twenty Seven little lives were snuffed out Bill… Right under my fucking nose.”

“And the noses of hundreds of cops and civil servants and the fucking mayor of the city… I know you think you’re a hot shot and all but you are _not_ the only one who can catch a criminal kid. It’s not on you. Please believe me.”

“They covered it up!" He blurted out as though the words were demanding to be said. "The Atlanta PD. They covered up the Red House…” He swallowed again, looking sick. “The child pornography… The Cops must’ve been involved, theres no other way. It must've gone higher up than that too.”

“I had that thought myself, not that we can ever say it out loud.” Bill agreed. “I thought there was nothing worse than a bent cop. Looks like we found a new low.”

“I keep finding new lows in human evil.” Holden whispered. “Just when I’m sure I’ve hit bedrock… The floor breaks.”

“I know… I know. I get it... I'll be honest. I had no idea it was getting to you as much as it is. I thought you were kinda immune. Freaked me out a little how well you compartmentalised.You need to give yourself a break Holden. That imagination of yours? The one that enables you to climb into those sick heads? It has a major downside and you’re feeling it now.”

Holden nodded. “I know… I can’t turn it off… Sorry… I really am…”

“Just relax and try to get some sleep.” Bill patted his arm. “I’ll wake you tomorrow.” 

He turned off the lamp and stumbled back to bed. He lay awake looking into the black until he heard Holden’s breathing slow down and become regular, then light snoring. 

Bill wondered if the bedrock would break again before the end of the case. He’d seen a new side of Holden tonight. With his bravado and narcissism stripped away he was actually pretty empathetic underneath it all. Maybe too much so. Bill hadn't allowed himself to think too hard about what the missing child might be going through. His terror and agony. 

_But he sure as hell couldn't get it out of his head now..._ _Thanks Holden._

He listened to his watch tick in the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kind comments. It's very encouraging to know people like it and want me to.continue.


	3. Prince Of The Apple Towns.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team interview the boy's parents.

Holden woke the next morning with a splitting headache. He felt strangely hungover. He turned over with a groan to find the room empty and Bill’s bed made. There was a note. 

_Letting you sleep in. See you at the station, take your time._

He started awake and checked his watch. 10.13. _Shit!What the fuck Bill? _He kept out of bed hurriedly and threw on his suit. He calculated hurriedly that , assuming Bill and Wendy took the car, it would take him another 20 minutes to get into town, across town and to the station. Bringing him in at almost 11am. What would the local cops think of him, ambling in so late? Not for the first time he questioned his efficacy as an agent. _Should I even be here? Am I crippling this investigation? _He hadn’t doubted himself this much in quite a while. One the one hand he knew he had the skill and information somewhere in his brain that would enable him to catch this killer. On the other he wasn’t sure if he could access it. He felt as though there was a blockage somewhere. Hiding the insight he wanted.

And Bill and Wendy knew it. They were on the case, and left him behind because and knew he couldn’t handle it. After his unprofessional, weak behaviour why would they? Why, he wondered, didn’t they just report him to Gunn and have done with it?

He rushed downstairs and found and elderly lady with blue rinse hair and round glasses manning the reception desk.

“Excuse me Ma’am? I’m late for work, is there a bicycle I could borrow?”

She stared at him, pondering. “A bike? Reckon we might have one… I’ll have to ask my son. He might see his way to renting it to

ya.”

“Great! Yes thank you! I’ll wait outside”

After a few minutes a taciturn teenage boy wheeled an old bike around. Holden gave him five dollars and took off. Realising how ridiculous he must look cycling in his suit.

It had been a long time since he’d been on a bike. Not since he was a teenager, delivering paper’s around his old neighbourhood. It wasn’t as easy as they said to get back in the saddle, so to speak, he wobbled around for a while, the breaks were a little sticky too. But it was faster than walking. _Fucking Bill Tench and his sympathy. He should have just woken me early._

He’d almost had full on attack again last night, over nothing this time. He felt ashamed to face Bill this morning. He tried to shake the memory of Bill’s worried face out of his mind. _Fuck! _Bill had been so goddamn nice about it. He needed a slap, not sympathy if he couldn’t hold his sanity together for half a day.

_How weak are you?_

He passed the hill that led to the junction, where Bobby Scarsdale had last been seen alive. He could see the road to the bridge, where it curved into the golden woods.Impulsively he swung the handlebars and turned down the forest road. He was late anyway, he’d go just a little way, as he rounded the corner he shuddered. After that corner the mystery began, and Bobby’s life ended.

He cycled a little way until he came to the bridge, rusted and looking worse for wear. They hadn’t found any clues either there nor in the river. Bobby’s bike had never been recovered. He stopped on the bridge and looked over the edge, it was a steep drop. On the other side of the bridge was an overgrown lay-by.

_Did someone wait for you there Bobby? _He wondered. _If you were on your bike, they wouldn’t have offered you a lift…Unless it was a pickup with room in the back for your bike… Did they knock you down? Did you get up and try to run? Did you know them or was it a stranger? A hitchhiker? did you stop to say hello? Were you a friendly little boy?_

_What kind of boy were you?_

Images of Bobby’s small, wounded body flashed, uninvited into his mind. 

_Thats the first step._ He reminded himself. _Victimology… I’m going to find out who you were._

A cold blast of air blew off the river and chilled him. He turned around and headed back to the junction. 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The Scarsdale family looked as though they’d been hollowed out. The Father Waylan, Mother June and two sisters. All reminded Wendy of china dolls. All ghostly pale skin and dark hair, eyes red rimmed and empty inside. Waylan sat silent as a stone, his big arm was wrapped around his wife’s shoulders, the two girls, May and Sophie, aged thirteen and nine were curled together in one armchair.Wendy could see that this was normally a neat, clean house and family. But today the dishes were mouldering in the sink and no one’s hair was combed. 

She watched silently as Holden spoke to them in kindly, hushed tones and Bill observed, picking up subtext, cataloguing reactions. Holden was in good form. She hadn’t needed to ask Bill why the younger agent hadn’t joined them that morning, she already knew. She couldn’t lie to herself, she was concerned that Holden’s instability would reflect poorly on them, but it seemed a decent nights sleep had helped.

Her brain in overdrive. The clock on the wall was ticking too loudly, someone’s nostril was squeaking.

“Did he often ride his bike that route Mr’s Scarsdale?” Asked Holden.

Her voice was slow and dreamlike. Wendy sensed the presence of sedatives. _No wonder, I’d want them too. _

“To be honest Agent Ford… I just don’t know. The moment school was out the boys were off doing their thing outside. I didn’t interfere unless they were late for dinner.”

“I understand…” Responded Holden thoughtfully. “Was he a friendly child?”

“Y… Yes I suppose so. He had lots of friends, always popular.”

“Do you think he would have stopped to speak to a stranger?” 

“I… I don’t know.”

Holden then addressed the children.“What do you think girls? How would you describe your brother?”

They looked at their feet, silently. Wendy was starting to think they wouldn’t respond at all but then May cleared her throat andspoke in a soft whisper. Sophie was sitting in her lap and as she spoke she hugged her sister and looked up. The rings under her eyes looked like bruises against her pale face. She’d probably been crying for a week straight.

“H…He was popular, like Mom said.”

“Popular?”

“Yeah… He was active and loud, played sports, he was always chosen first for games at recess. Everyone liked him.”

“No one ever picked on him?” 

“N… No. He was…Tough but…Fun to be around…” Her voice broke “ Always smiling, and talking.”

“He was a gentle little boy?”

“Um… He wasn’t a sissy or anything. He fought quite a bit, but it was always over by the end of school… He didn’t hold a grudge.”

“So he got on well with kids. But what about adults? Was there anyone in town who acted strangely or bothered him?”

“ Um… No. I don’t think so.” 

“May… Was there anyone in town who bothered _you_?” 

Wendy watched with interest as the girl’s body language curled inward slightly and she pulled Sophie closer. It was quick, barely noticeable, but she looked at her parents, as if to measure their reaction to Holden’s question. 

“I…I don’t understand the question?”

“Sometimes a grown up might be… Strange around kids… Maybe a little too friendly?”

She shook her head. “Can we go now?” she asked tearfully. 

Bill cut his eyes at Wendy briefly, exasperated, but not showing it. _I know_, she thought, _I saw it too. _

“Of course Honey.” Bill told her. “You take care of yourselves girls.” 

Bill cutting in at this point was a cue for Holden to take a break. He sat back in his chair slightly and stopped mirroring the kid’s body language. Bill smiled at June and Waylan sadly.

“I lost a brother in Korea. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with.” He said. June wiped her eyes and nodded. Waylan remained impassive, almost frozen.

Wendy saw Holden’s eyes widen slightly. She hadn’t heard any of Bill's life story either. It wasn’t like him to drag his personal life into an interview. Bill continued:

“What about the girls?”

“Sorry?”

“Your daughters? Do they take off on their bikes too? After school?” 

“Well…No… They aren’t allowed…” Replied the women in a shaken tone.

“Why is that Mrs Scarsdale?” 

“Well, you know… They’re girls. They have to be more careful. They can’t just go where they please, people will get the wrong idea.” She said, slightly confused.

“I see…” He replied. “And… Was there anyone or any place locally, in particular, that you might… Have wanted your daughters to stay away from?”

“ Well… I…”

Waylan tightened the protective arm around his wife.

“Just what are you implying Agent?. “ You think we didn’t take good enough care of our kid? You think this is…” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, wincing as though in pain… “Our fault?”

Bill’s eyes widened. “Oh... No! Not at all Mr Scarsdale…” 

“Boys will be boys Agent!” His voice rose and cracked with emotion. “You were young once. You remember what you used to get up to after school? Or on weekends? He went where he pleased. We weren’t going to mollycoddle him and turn him queer…”

Thankfully Wendy stepped in to take the heat. She reached over and patted Bill’s arm. He frowned and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed. 

“Mr Scarsdale. Please excuse my partner’s… Forthrightness. We’re used to dealing with data and statistics. I know that you are suffering terrible grief, and I apologise if this line of questioning feels insensitive… But we are acutely aware that there is a missing child that needs our help. So frankly… We need yours.”

Waylan relaxed a little. 

“The type of predator we’re looking for likely has a preference for boys. But they are very rarely exclusive in that regard. If anyone has been harassing or pursuing girls of the same age then they are going to be suspect also.” 

The man looked confused.

“But… that could be a whole lot of people… I mean, a pretty little girl has to watch her back in any town.”

Wendy Cleared her throat. 

“Indeed. I understand. But if the girls mention anything suspicious please let us know.”

“I… I doubt they’d have any information for you Mrs…?”

“Dr…Dr.Carr.”She smiled stiffly.

“We keep the girls on a short leash, as I said. They won’t know anything.”

“Still…” Pressed Wendy. “No stone unturned and all that.” 

“Right.” He responded. “ We’ll be in touch if anything comes up. Now if you’ll excuse us it’s time for June’s nap.”

“ Thank you.” They got up and shook hands one by one and headed out. 

xxxxxxxx

As soon as they got into the car Holden let out a deep breath he’d obviously been keeping in. “ Well that was weird. Could've cut the tension with a knife."

“Or…” Said Bill “They just don’t want their already traumatised children to be interrogated by the FBI… It’s not out of the question.”

Wendy and Holden snorted derisively in unison. 

“Please.” She said. “Those kids know something… Did you see how the girl reacted?” 

“Yeah…” Bill replied. “I did. Maybe you’re right, there was something a little off. “A pretty girl needs to watch her back?” How creepy was that?” 

“No.” Wendy replied.

“What?”

“Not creepy. True, standard in fact.”

“Seriously? We’re talking about eleven year olds here.”

“I was nine the first time a man made a pass at me.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Seriously? A grown man?”

“Ask any woman you know. She’ll say the same thing.”

“It’s true.” Holden piped up. “ Debbie said she was ten when a guy tried to pick her up at the park.”

“I’m starting to see why people have double standard for girls.” Muttered Bill.

“That girl knew more than she was saying.” Said Wendy “I’m guessing she escapes that short leash every now and then.”

xxxxxxxxxxxx

They spoke to Clive Conner’s mother, Amy, next, at her small house on the edge of town. Clive was an only child, his mother repeatedly described him as quiet, soft-spoken and gentle. A chubby woman with large, expressive eyes and red corkscrew curls, She couldn’t stop crying. She looked like she hadn’t slept for weeks. Her husband had died a few years previously and now it was just her. Photos of the boy, a sweet looking child with thick glasses, were all over the house. As she spoke Amy kept looking at a large picture of her son and husband on the mantel. Bill felt a sharp pang of grief for her.

“I just can’t stop thinking about what might be happening…” She began to sob again. Bill took her hands in his.

“Mrs Conners, rest assured we are doing everything we can to find your boy… Can you tell me anything about his friendship with Bobby Scarsdale? Anything at all?

“Oh… They were friends, best friends. Bobby was always over here. They used to read comics upstairs for hours.”

“Mrs Conners” Holden asked “What was your impression of Bobby? What kind of character was he?”

“Oh… He was a sweetheart, so polite and kind. Sensitive I’d call him, like Clive. He was kind to Clive when all the other boys bullied him.”

“Clive was bullied?”

“Y…Yes, you know he’s such a shy boy, so quiet since his father died. The other boys would call him a sissy and pick on him… He preferred to play with girls, you can imagine how that looked to the boys around here, all rough and tumble. But Bobby was aways kind and spent a lot of time with him. He and his sister.”

“His sister? May?” Holden sat forward in his chair. Barely hiding his interest.

She sniffed and took a tissue out of her pocket. Wiping her nose. “Yes, lovely girl, She bought me over some flowers yesterday and some groceries. Such a thoughtful little thing.”

“Do she and her brother come here together a lot?” Asked Holden. 

“Yes, and occasionally she’ll come over by herself. They play Shoots and Ladders or Chess by the fireplace. I think she might have a bit of a crush on Clive. Even though she’s a bit older. She asked me once not to say anything about her visiting because her parents won’t let her be friends with a boy… I was a bit conflicted about that to be honest… But Well.. Clive has so few friends.”

He noticed she kept using the present tense. 

“Do you know the Scarsdales well?”

“Oh, no, I see them at church and that’s about it.” Her expression changed slightly when she spoke about them. Her brow furrowing.

“What do you think of them?” Bill asked, smiling reassuringly. 

“Well… I don’t know them and I wouldn’t presume to judge them, especially now…”

“It doesn’t leave this room.” He told her, patting her hand.

“Well… I know young girls can’t galavant around at every hour doing whatever they want… But I seems a little too strict to me. She’s a good girl. And to forbid her to be friends with a boy… It seems a little cruel, frankly.” 

“Seems like Bobby didn’t have the same rules as his sister.” Bill observed. “Seems like no one knew where he was half the time.”

“No… No I suppose not. Boys will be boys I guess… I mean. I let Clive do what he likes after school. As long as he’s home for dinner…" At that she broke down and began to weep into her hands.” Bill patted her back sympathetically. 

“Of course… Mrs Conners’ thats all for now. We’ll be in touch, and we’re doing out utmost to get your son home to you safe ok?” 

“H..Honestly I’m just s...so tired and s…scared I can’t…”

“We know, we understand.” 

Afterwards, as Bill drove, lost in his own thoughts, Wendy made eye contact with Holden in the rear view mirror, he looked pensive. “What are you thinking?” She asked.

“I’m thinking that there’s a quite big discrepancy between Bobby Scarsdale the sports star, scrapper, popular kid and Bobby Scarsdale the sensitive, quiet guy who hangs out every day with the sissy boy everyone picks on.”

“My thoughts exactly.” 

“Which means someone’s lying.” 

“Or… No one really knew the kid…At least not the adults”

“ Which means?”

“Which Means…” Said Bill, speaking up at last “We need to talk to every kid in town.” 

xxxxxxxxxxx

They stopped at a diner, corner of Main street. It was too early for the dinner rush and it was nearly empty. Yet Wendy was acutely aware of eyes on them, strangers in a small town, everyone knew who they were and why they were there. They kept their voices down but she was sure the waitress, a small woman in her 60s, was listening intently.

“You the F.B.I?” She asked as she came to get their order.

“How did you know?” Bill asked jokingly. 

“You all stick out like a sore thumb!” She teased. “Hope you’re not undercover.” 

“Nope. But you knew that.”

“Yeah… Horrible thing. Disgusting. Everyones terrified. Not the kind of thing we’re used to at all.”

“You know anyone involved?” 

“The kid with glasses used to come in here sometimes for a milkshake with his little girlfriend.”

“Clive?”

“Yeah, poor little Clive… I can’t even think about it without crying.”

“What did his girlfriend look like?”

“Tall girl, dark hair.”

“Huh…I’ll have the steak.” He said throwing a look at Holden and Wendy across the booth.They needed to write up reports and discuss what they’d heard without curious ears flapping. 

“Interesting.” Bill murmured as she left.

“Very” Holden agreed.

Bill must’ve been in better spirits today because he started teasing Holden.

“You are going to eat something aren’t you Holden?” Asked Bill. “ Not just push it around the plate like you usually do?”

“Bill…” Holden said, trying to maintain his composure. “I’m not your son.”

“But you will eat right?”

“And as much as I appreciate the concern and…” He blushed “the lie in this morning. I don’t need to be parented.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“ I had to borrow a bike to get to work today, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t see it, wish I had. Three wheeler?”

“Fuck off. I’ll have to ride it back tonight you realise?” 

The food came and Holden did eat. He looked more alive than she’d seen him in months. All it took was a murder-kidnapping. 

_No, that wasn’t fair. All it took was him being competent and needed… And part of something. _

Wendy?” Holden asked as he sipped his coffee “ When you were a kid…Did you tell anyone? When the man made a pass at you?” 

She was little surprised, having forgotten their conversation from earlier.

“I…I did actually. My mother told me not to wear shorts anymore.”

“Debbies Mom said if she acted like a slut they’d treat her like one.” He said with a little venom in his voice. 

“This is exactly why kids don’t tell when worse things happen to them.” Growled Bill. 

“ The thing is…” Said Holden slowly, in the way that he did when he was calculating something.“Double standards cut both ways… So May gets no freedom. She’s older than Bobby and she and Sophie are practically prisoners compared to him. He goes where he likes, when he likes and does what he wants because no one is there to see it…But we know… Even the most sheltered moron _knows_ predators are out there and hurting boys, maybe not as often, but it happens…So how come… The boys aren’t protected in remotely the same way?”

“What Holden? Bill asked sharply. We just let American manhood die out because there’s a one in a God-knows-what chance something could go wrong? Boys need to have their adventures, their independence or…” 

“Or what? They turn queer? Like Waylan was saying?” Holden prodded. “You think any of our killers would’ve been able to get away with half their shit if they’d had anyone to answer to?”

Bill was clearly upset. Holden in his tactlessness had probably forgotten that leaving Brian to play unsupervised had resulted in disaster. _Still, he had a point. _She thought, remembering her stifling adolescence as an only child. Wanting nothing more than to escape her own skin. Her parents always wondering why she couldn’t be a _nice, normal girl._

“One in ten.” Wendy said. Both men turned to her quizzically. “What?”

“ One in ten men… More or less… Has experienced a sexual assault, mostly in childhood. Probably more, they don’t report it.”

“Thats… Thats actually quite a lot.” Muttered Bill uncomfortably. “Holy shit.”

“It’s around one in four for women… Happens all the time.” She said. “We protect girls more because men feel so entitled to female bodies we don’t even question it as a society. The subconscious assumption that the general public makes, that goes totally unchallenged is that normal men, deep down naturally desire _and are entitled to_ any female body, including children… But only deviant men desire boys…The taboo isn’t pedophila it homosexuality.”

She was aware of resentment and ire in her voice. The conversation was hitting all her buttons.

“So they associate homosexuality- attraction between same sex adults- with pedophilia despite there being no connection. Because it’s easier than admitting that we’ve happily normalised child abuse.” She spat the words.

“You’re right…It’s actually so socially acceptable that that their own fucking parents will often twist themselves into pretzels to somehow absolve the predator and blame their own child.” Continued Holden… So what happens when its a boy?”

“They keep Schtum.” Offered Bill. “It’s unheard of. They never tell a soul.”

“Men and boys who’ve been raped are often accused of being homosexual” said Wendy.

“Like, for it to happen they must’ve wanted it” Continued Bill.

“Attracted it.” said Holden, looking ill.

“The worst possible thing a boy can be.” She hissed, slapping the table… “Is a _sissy_… A sissy is worse than a killer, or a rapist or a fucking pedophile. Thats the gift of ‘American Manhood!’ ”

Bill and Holden sat in stunned silence, staring at her. They’d never seen her like this before. She’d always seems composed even in anger.

“Sometimes this job makes me want to castrate myself.” Said Holden quietly.

“Check Please!” Bill lifted his hand. The waitress had been watching them for five minutes with mounting unease. She was clearly happy to get rid of them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

As she took off her makeup that night, she berated herself for her cracked composure. She couldn't take risks like that. It was too close to home. She had almost, _almost_ said something that could have exposed her. As it was they probably just thought of her as another angry feminist. That was fine, and true.

She heard a knock. _What now? “_Who is it?”

“It’s Bill, can I come in for a moment?”

She put on her robe and let him in. He looked even more exhausted and put upon than usual.

“Everything ok? Where’s Holden?” She asked wondering if he’d had another panic attack.

“He’s fine, or at least I assume so. He's not back yet.”

“Whats wrong Bill?”

“I… I just wanted to check on you. Honestly you seemed kind of upset earlier. I’ve been so focused on Holden I forgot this was your first job in the field… It can get a little… Much at times.”

“Oh… Well... I suppose I was upset. Those interviews got to me, to be honest... Bill I’m just not that used to dealing with people one on one. I’m not very good at it. Never have been.”

“I get it, you went into statistical research for a reason huh?”

“I think it helps me understand people in a way that I can’t when I actually interact with them.” She laughed. I’ve been this way since I was born I think. Sorry if I embarassed you at the diner.”

“No… Not at all… You’re allowed to be angry. Everyone should be angry about the fucked up aspects of our society…”

He paused, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“I just wanted you to know… I mean…I know I’m not the most progressive or modern guy. And sometimes I say stuff about…Homosexuals. But… Working in profiling and learning more about psychology... It's changed my perception I guess... I actually don’t have a problem with them… I mean I don’t _understand_ them really... But I certainly don’t hate them. And I don’t think they hurt kids…”

“Ok.” She stood stock still. _Is he saying… what I think he’s saying?_

_“_And I don’t think they deserve any less than the rest of us.” 

She nodded. Unable to speak. 

“Good night Wendy. I hope you feel better in the morning.”

He let himself out. 

Her knees buckled slightly and she sat on the bed. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Holden had suggested to the Chief that a cop car wait out by the road near the dump site. In case the killer returned. and Wilson had seemed receptive to the idea. Then he left the station, but found he wasn’t ready to go back to the hotel. He wasn’t tired anymore, and the full moon was out. He was one the verge of something, he could feel it the night air was alive with nervous energy. 

Now he circled around the town, wondering what it would have been like to grow up in a little tiny town like this. _Imagining the sun above and the waving shopkeepers, the smiling waitress at the diner, the grumpy old man at the fishing tackle store, the nice lady where he bought his candy whenever he found a quarter, thekids playing touch football in the square, playground fights, bloody noses, sisters you could share a secret with...A best friend._

_Someone you could depend on, tell anything, no matter how sad or ashamed it made you feel. _

He steered in a figure eight shape, carving an eternity symbol in the leaves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks everyone for your feedback. The titles are from 'Fern Hill' by Dylan Thomas, for obvious reasons.


	4. Under The Simple Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are kept.

“Waylan? He’s a good guy. Kinda quiet, never been any trouble as far as I can tell. Hard worker, they all are in that family, They run the hardware store. Have done for around 40 years.”

“What about June?”

“Lovely women, helps my wife out with the church bake sale every year.”

“I only asked because, Their daughters… They seemed to be holding back. Not saying everything they wanted to say.”

“Well… I think anyone going through what those people are going through right now might act a little strangely.” 

“Hmm. Maybe so.”

Police Chief Wilson seemed reluctant to talk critically about the Scarsdale family. Holden guessed it was because of local politics. The people of Oakdale had to be able to trust him, of course. He was their cop. Couldn’t be seen to be turning on his own people. Holden knew that any whisper of the killer being a local would cause uproar. Not just that. It would cause everyone to clam up and close ranks against them. 

They had to keep their heads down and appear to be looking everywhere _but_ within Oakdale. 

As the warm and fuzzy face of the team, Bill had agreed to take the short straw andquestion the kids at the elementary school. Wendy had taken the teachers, the local doctor, priest and pastor. 

Holden had essentially been given Wilson as a subject. Bill thought the local PD might be holding out on them. He’d had increasingly little time for cops since Atalanta. 

Plans were coming together. A candle lit prayer vigil was to be held at the dump site in the forest the next evening. A public announcement was to be made in church. Half the town would be there and, Holden was certain, the killer. 

But this wasn’t Atlanta. This was a town where everyone knew everyone else. A new face was unlikely to show up. They were still relying on interviews to get a full idea of the town and its residents. 

Wilson wasn't convinced. He was getting more demoralised by the day. Holden sat in the office with him discussing the evidence -such as it was- for the tenth time that day. It has now been five days since Clive's abduction and almost every cop in the county was still looking for him. Holden knew that at this point it would be a body they'd find...If they ever did find him. 

With so little to work with the profile was proving elusive.

"The Bike was recovered this morning. Downstream, about half a mile from the bridge."

"Forensics?"

"Nothing. The river washed any fingerprints or blood away. The only forensic clue we have is the blood from Clive's room. And that was O Positive so not exactly narrowing it down. No prints there either, must've worn gloves."

"That room was in chaos! There must've been something."

"That's what's getting to me! There wasn't! Not a print or hair! I must be missing something!" Wilson threw up his hands. "I'm Goddamn beat if I know what!"

Holden poured them both a coffee and set it down on the desk. 

"We just don't know enough yet Chief. We only have an incomplete profile to work from. If I stand up in the town hall and give an incorrect description in a town this size... It could lead to a witch Hunt."

"Well give me the fuckin' incomplete profile. At least I can start looking in the right place."

Holden sighed. He wished to Christ he had more to give the local PD. 

"The bare bones of it are: Male, white, large judging by the physical brutality of the attack, He has a temper, he could have any type of job or social standing. Statistically he's known to the child, although there's no guarantee that's the case, if he's a drifter he's probably had prior convictions, he'd have trouble finding employment. If he's not... Well pedophiles hide in plain sight in polite society. They often have jobs that put them near children or in a position of trust."

"Like?"

"Teachers, doctors, sports coaches, clergyman, scoutmasters...Police."

"So you're saying every well respected citizen in town. Including my own department? You don't make my job easier agent Ford."

"If we could get a handle on the profile we could take out a lot of variables. The problem is that it makes no sense. This guy..."

Holden pointed at a picture of Bobby Scarsdale's corpse pinned to the wall. 

“…Was furious to the point of frenzy. He practically tore the kid apart with his bare hands, he literally snapped his neck! So that strongly indicates an opportunistic disorganized sociopath.... Probably with psychosis. That lends itself to the drifter theory. Because who wouldn't see that guy coming right? He wouldn't be the type to quietly fit in around town."

"Right."

Holden started pacing the room in agitation. His voice rising in frustration.

"But here's the thing... The lack of physical evidence. That's unheard of with that kind of killer. They typically leave a ton of evidence and try to clean it up after... The break-in at Clive Conner's house was planned meticulously. He'd obviously been watching the kids for a while, saw them together, gloves were worn, the time was chosen during his mother's night shift.... That's an organised psychopath. The opposite. The two pathologies can't co-exist in the same person!" 

"So it's two different people."

Holden stopped pacing and blinked a couple of times. 

"What?"

Wilson shrugged. "Must be. There’s no other explanation."

"B...But.." Holden stammered in confusion "...How the hell would that work? A disorganized sociopath and an organized psychopath working together? The idea is preposterous. All of a sudden? In a small town. I mean for a start they'd make a terrible team, no cooperation…” _What had Bill said back in Atlanta…_ _Don’t be miopic, when it comes to profiles…_

_"_What are the odds though? In a town this size?"

"Right but the alternative is that it was two random ones in the same week. What are the odds of that?"

What _were_ the odds of that? 

“W… We’re missing something…” Holden said. His voice rising and heart speeding up. _Not now, please, not now. _“I…I can feel it.” 

His throat felt constricted, like a pair of hands were wrapped around it, pressing his trachea. Suddenly and unbidden a memory of Kemper, grasping the cartilage of his throat with one giant hand, while pressing, just a little too hard, with his massive fingers.

_“When you fuck somebody in the neck…It's nothing but resistance…You feel this? Feel it..It’s all muscle…Cartilaginous”_

_I should have known better. Right then. That was the moment to walk out and never go back. He saw me coming from the jump. When he made me eat that stupid fucking egg salad sandwich. Knew I’d be easy to fuck with. _

_“You feel this?”_

_He could have crushed my throat that day. What was I thinking interviewing him alone? How arrogant and stupid!_

“Are you OK Agent Ford?” Wilson was staring at him with a concerned frown.

“I… Excuse me a moment.” He managed to choke out before, rushing out of the office and into the nearest bathroom, where he immediately vomited into the sink. All he could feel was Ed Kemper’s hand on his throat. He was wheezing. 

_I’m going to die… _

_xxxxxxxxxxx_

“Isn’t it exciting class?” Asked Miss Webb the kindergarten teacher of a room full of five year olds. “A real Police Man! Coming to tell you about catching baddies!”

Bill smiled stiffly. He’d been using the same method and questionnaire on each class and getting them impressed with his badge, putting them at ease with him, then asking them a set of questions designed to get them to spill any local gossip. But these kids were a little too young to understand a lot of it. He’s have to adapt as he went.

Not expecting to get anything useful, he showed the munchkins his badge and told them about catching baddies. 

“Remember the Police man is your friend.” Said Miss Webb helpfully. 

_Tell it to dozens of dead kids all over Atlanta. _Thought his inner cynic. 

“Do you have a gun?” Asked one eager little boy. 

“Do you shoot baddies?” Asked a freckle faced scrap.

“Um..” He looked at their teacher for help. 

“Agent Tench would never shoot anyone who wasn’t really, really bad isn’t that right?” 

“Thats right.”

“So…” Asked one cute little girl, raising her hand. “ So… How do you know if someones a baddie?”

“Well… One thing that makes someone a baddie is if they break the law.”

“Like stealing?” 

“Well… Sometimes yeah. Or if they do… Mean things to people or animals.”

“What kinds mean things?”

“Like hurting them.”

“Like when Jimmy’s dad threw the extra puppies in the river?” She asked. Someone, presumably Jimmy, started crying. Mrs Webb went to comfort him, and led him outside the room.

“They live on a farm stupid!” Yelled another girl from the back. All farmers do that!

“Um…” Bill always found this a hard distinction to make and it was a valid observation. That sociopathic behaviour can be entirely socially accepted. Hunting, war and every other daily cruelty we don’t even think about… He hadn’t expected to have to discuss moral philosophy with a five year old. 

He smiled at the little girl. “Thing is sweetie, for Jimmy’s dad to be a real baddie he would’ve had to feel good about it. My guess is he felt pretty sad after he did it.”

“Oh…” 

“So… Piped up another kid. “When my mom spanks me she isn’t a baddie "cause she cries after.”

Bill had to stifle a laugh. “ Exactly. A baddie doesn’t feel remor…_ Bad_ about hurting people.”

“ Um… Um…” A child hopping with excitement stood up. “My friend said his friends dad hits them with a hose pipe.”

“That so? What’s your friends name?” This was amazing. Contrary to expectations these kids were totally unguarded and spilled their guts at any opportunity. He didn’t even need the questionnaire. He wondered if all five year olds were this different from his own son. 

Stories were flying around the room. Lindy’s mom drank beer all day and crashed her car. Sam’s dad waswith a new woman that wasn’t mommy. David’s daddy wasn’t his real daddy… _Holy shit, this town is a soap opera. _Eventually he had to shush them. Miss Webb had asked him to teach them about Stranger Danger in light of the Bobby Scarsdale murder. She Hadn’t returned… Probably on a well deserved break.

“Does anyone know what to do if a stranger offers them candy?” He asked.

“Thank you?” Said one particularly young boy.

“NO you stupid head! Cried a voice from the back… You’re supposed to say “NO WAY! Then run away!”

“That’s right, I know you guys have all been taught to be polite. But if a stranger offers you candy, or wants you to go anywhere with them you must run and go and tell an adult right away… But here’s the thing…” He wondered how to say it without scaring the shit out of them.

“…Even a grown up that you know really well might be a Baddie.” Even someone nice that everyone likes, even… Say a friend’s daddy or older brother… They might not be so nice really.”

“Secret Baddies?”

“Yeah. Like Secret Baddies… You guys need to remember that if there are any people in your lives who make you feel… Uncomfortable…In a creepy way. Or who touch you in a… Bad place…Like under your clothes…” He was foundering a little. _How the fuck does one explain sexual assault to kids?_ “…Or who wants to kiss you or hug you in a way that you don’t like… Or wants you to take off your clothes when it’s not appropriate… You need to tell someone, a grown up that you trust. Do you understand? Because grown ups aren’t allowed to do that to kids.” 

The room was silent. He was pretty sure they didn’t understand at all. _Which makes them blessed. _

“Who wants to see my gun?” 

The room erupted in joy. 

xxxxxxxxx

Wendy had approached the two teachers and principal at the school, The local MD Doctor Summers, and Father Amis, the Priest. 

From the School she had gleaned that Bobby had been as popular and outgoing as had been expected, that his friendship with Clive hadn’t been noticed, and that there were a dozen people in town who the three women suspected. _“Never liked the look of that Terry fella from the general store…”_The school was obviously ground zero for gossip and speculation in Oakdale.

Both the Doctor and Priest had been tight lipped and useless to her. Anything they knew would be bound by confidentiality. She felt the Doctor knew something he wasn’t saying about Bobby but he insisted that if he thought anything illegal was happening he’d have reported it. The Priest… Well if anyone had confessed the murder to him he wasn’t saying, but Wendy got the feeling he hadn’t heard anything.

The Pastor, Michael Cunningham, was her last port of call before retuning to the station. He and his wife had been expecting her and invited her inside warmly. 

“ We can’t tell you how distressed we’ve been about this Doctor Carr.” Mrs Cunninghan said, offering her a slice of cake. “ We can’t believe it.” She said, shaking her head “It’s just heartbreaking.”

“ I must Say Doctor Carr. We’ve read about you and find your work in criminal psychology absolutely fascinating.”

“Do you know the Scarsdales well Reverend Cunningham?”

“Of course, I know all my congregation, You see people through all the major events, birth, death, illness, marriage. You get pretty close to them.”

“What’s your impression of them as a family.” 

“We like them a lot, especially June, she’s very involved in the church, always helping out with fundraisers, I’d go as far as to call her a good friend, Waylan too. He’s a shy man but very active in the community, always willing to help out. Why just the other day he volunteered to give guitar lessons to our kids. And we often look after theirs... They Call me and my wife Auntie and Uncle.” His face fell. "Or... Used to...in Bobby's case."

“And the Scarsdale Children?”

Mrs Cunningham put her hand over her mouth and blinked tears away. “Excuse me, so sorry.” She said quietly, leaving the room. 

“Please excuse her, she’s very upset about Bobby.”

“Nothing to apologise for.” Wendy said, smiling sadly. “ He sounds like a lovely child.”

“Oh he was, very outgoing a free spirited. He needed a firm hand but he was good hearted.”

“What did he get up to?”

“Oh you know, the usual, stealing apples and getting in fights… Standard boy stuff.”

Wendy sat forward in her seat a little. “This isn’t the first time we’ve heard fighting connected with Bobby… Can you tell me a little bit about that?”

“Oh… Well… I don’t really know. He was always getting into fights at school. Always had a shiner or a split lip…”

“ Was he a bully?”

“ Oh, quite the contrary! The last time his mother said he was defending another boy who was being picked on.”

“Do you know who?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, Wendy made a mental note of that. “I’m afraid not.”

“And the girls?”

“Very sweet and good, both of them.”

“What do you know about Clive? The missing boy?”

“Oh, well the Conner’s were…_ Are _Catholic… It's awful… I keep having to remind myself that the boy isn’t officially dead…So I didn’t know them well, but it’s my understanding that the boy, Clive, had some… Problems.

“Oh?”

“I don’t like to gossip.”

Wendy put on her most charming smile. “Reverend Cunningham, please don’t feel that anything you tell me is gossip. I only take note of things I feel might pertain to the case. I’m here to get justice for those children, nothing else.”

“It’s second hand news I got from my daughter… She said there was a rumour that the boy might have been… _That_ way… You know…” He flipped his wrist in an effeminate gesture.

“Homosexual?” Said Wendy. Schooling her features to hide her surprise at the revelation. A theory was forming in the back of her mind.

“That’s what the other children were saying at school. He was dreadfully bullied.” 

“I was told he had a girlfriend.”

“Oh really? Well maybe the rumour was unfounded then. Children are dreadful gossips sometimes. It’s something I try to discourage in my own. Or maybe the poor boy was overcompensating. He was little young for that no?”

“Were you aware that Bobby and Clive were good friends?”

“I… Honestly that surprises me Doctor Carr… I hadn’t heard that. I wouldn’t have thought Bobby would be friends with someone like Clive… He was such a little _boy_ you know. He wouldn’t have had time for sissies.”

Wendy couldn’t hide a smirk. She nodded and sipped her tea.

xxxxxxxx

Bill and Wendy had arrived back at the Station to discover Holden was at the small Hospital in Newport. That was the part he felt worst about. He’d wasted an hour of Wilsons time in driving. And another in waiting for him…All this during an active investigation. He was acutely aware that Clive was still out there somewhere. Also that If he was dead the killer would be looking for another victim by now. 

Bill had salvaged the situation with the cops by telling them that Holden suffered from Asthma…Which, incidentally, was the same thing Holden had told The doctors. He left the hospital with an inhaler he had no use for. He’d also asked for Valium: To help him sleep, on account of the early mornings and late nights. The doctor didn’t ask questions, just raised one eyebrow and filled out a prescription.

Wilson was quiet in the the car. A mile or so out of town he pulled over. 

“If that was an Asthma attack I’m Ingrid Bergman.” He said. 

Holden gulped down more anxiety, fighting the urge to reach for the pills. 

“Jesus Agent Ford! You’re pale as a ghost man! I’m not going to report you or anything.”

Holden looked over at him in surprise.

“You’re not?”

“Hell no! The more interest the FBI shows in this case the more likely it is we find the kid… I’ve read up on your cases. You people are on to something with this profiling stuff… An agent cracking up… Well… We won’t let that stop us.”

“What?” Holden could hardly believe his ears. “I’m jeopardising the case just by being here!”

The old man scoffed at him. “Agent Ford. Do you really think we’re doing ok? The force in this town? We’re not used to dead, raped children, you understand? We’re fucking falling to pieces. I had to give two of my officers sick leave for mental stress, we're understaffed … I myself haven’t slept more than three hours in the last two nights… Frankly to see someone who deals with this terrible shit for a living freaking out about it is kind of a relief. I feel vindicated.”

“Oh…”

“It’s ok. I’ve been there, Its called a panic attack. I used to get them after the war.”

Holden didn't know how to feel. The reality hit him like a brick to the head. _I'm not the only one. _In his isolated mind he had felt cut off from the rest of humanity. So afraid to say anything. _It isn't just me. _

“Korea?” He asked. My "Dad was a military man."

“Europe…I was just barely eighteen, Airforce, you can imagine what happens if you have one while airborne with a cargo of explosives...If your daddy was an army man you'll know about what war can do to a kid."

“Yeah” Holden felt lightheaded just thinking about it. 

“The best tip I ever got was from my CO. He said as soon as one starts, start counting backwards from ten... Distract your brain..Then count five things you can hear, four things you can see, three things you can touch and two things you can smell… I swear… It worked more often than not.”

“Do…You still get them?”

Wilson laughed. “Not since I stopped flying light aircraft through active war zones, although this case is doing it’s best to push me back into the twilight zone…”

“I… It’s the work...”

“I can imagine.”

“I can’t stop doing this job.”

“Well… You’d better not even think about it until we catch this bastard.”

Holden rested his head against the window and watches the golden forest rushing by. He thought of Clive Conners out there somewhere..._You're not alone either. I'm going to come find you and bring you home._ He thought, sadly. 

He returned to the station to find Bill looking at him with that unique mix of concern and disappointment. He clapped a hand on Holden’s shoulder.

“We need to talk later.” He whispered. “Go read through our reports.”

xxxxxxxxxx

The hotel was busy, and a local bar would be too rife with eavesdroppers. After typing up their findings at the station, they ended up in Wendy’s room sharing a bottle of whiskey. 

Holden was quiet, sitting on the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him. He couldn’t stop thinking about that morning. What had happened? Nothing life threatening, nothing but a bad memory and a stressful situation. _A new perspective on the memory. _

His mind should have been on the case, not dwelling on his own bullshit.

Wendy looked through Bill’s notes, being a confused series of accounts and theories from the children of Oakdale. 

“What I’m getting from this is that half the town is having affairs and the other half profile pretty well as disordered personalities…Also that people talk way too much about personal issues in front of their children.”

The reports painted a strange picture of a town with slightly feral children. They had their own little world of intrigue, heartache and adventure going on that was quite separate from the world of their parents.

“So…” Bill pondered, looking out the window “Do we think little Bobby and Clive were more than friends? They’re pretty young.”

“When was your first crush Bill?” Wendy asked from her perch at the desk. 

“Stacey Gendry… I was about twelve… She had the prettiest laugh.” He smiled at the memory.

“There you go.” She downed the rest of her drink and poured another.

“It wouldn’t matter if they were or not.”Holden murmured. “People would have…” He blinked, groggily… “_Thought_ that they were... And...Maybe that gives us something to go o..On."

Bill turned to him “Are you mixing Whiskey and Vallium?” 

“You know I am.” Holden lifted his half empty glass in a salute. 

“Jesus Holden. Thats… Not a good idea.”

“You know what’s not a good idea Bill?” Holden continued, slurring slightly. “Hanging out, alone, with a mass murdering psychopath… But guess what? I did that too!”

“Seriously? Is that what set you off today? Kemper again?”

“Theres just something about strangulation Bill… It makes me think of the time he fondled my larynx.”

Wendy dropped her glass on the carpet. Bill stared at him in horror. “He _what!? _When the hell did that happen?” He demanded.

“You weren’t there… I just sat there and let him do it too. Like a…” He didn’t finish his sentence, opting to gulp his whiskey instead.

“Holden.” Bill said with a surprising amount of calmness. “You don’t get to tell us something like that and not explain… Was it in the hospital?”

Holden looked up at them, at Bill’s worry furrowed brow, he wasn’t angry, as Holden had thought he would be. Wendy’s unreadable silence, her silence that made people want to talk to her.

“You wouldn’t have heard it on the tape…It was at the prison. One of the really early interviews. He was… Talking about sex… Well… Not _sex_ you know what he was into… He was telling me about how hard it was to penetrate a dead throat… And he walked over to me, and reached out and…” Holden made a motion with his hand on his own throat that made him gag and cough. 

“Jesus Holden!” Bill looked upset. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t though did I? I didn’t even think of telling anyone. Not that I would have anyway, The FBI would’ve pulled the plug. I said nothing and went back again and again.”

“I remember once he ran his fingernail across your throat.” Bill said softly. “ It was such a fucked up gesture, like he was trying to rattle us both.”

“Ear to ear, so they bleed out and suffocate at the same time.” Holden mimicked Kemper’s monotone. 

“He was manipulating you right from the start.” Said Wendy. “ Playing power games with you.”

“He made me eat an egg salad sandwich the first time we met!” Holden burst out laughing. “ He insisted! God I was so _naivé _back then!” 

Bill wasn’t laughing. “He could have killed you.” He stated. “Twice.”

“I guess he saw me coming.” Holden said, wiping tears of drunken mirth out of his eyes. “Saw a little goody two shoes choir boy walk in. Knew what he was looking at.”

“Holden.” Wendy was staring at him closely. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah… Yeah… I’m ok just… Tired. I should hit the hay.” Instead of getting up, however, he laid his head on the Pillow and closed his eyes.

“No Holden!” Wendy said firmly. “Don’t fall asleep on my Bed!”

Bill reached over andpulled Holden off the bed, pulling one arm over his shoulder. 

“Hey! What?” Holden tried to swat Bill away ineffectively.

“Come on. Time for bed.” He grumbled. “Thanks for the drinks Wendy.”

After He’d manhandled Holden out of the room and dropped his intoxicated ass on the bed and removed his shoes, Bill fell into his own bed like a sack of cement. He reached over with effort and killed the lamp. _Sleep at last._

“Bill?”

“Yeah Holden?”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be. Go to sleep.”

“It’s the kids… I… I can’t stand it.”

“I know buddy. Go to sleep.”

He drifted off. Only to be awoken by the hotel phone what felt like moments later. It was getting light outside so he must’ve slept. He checked his watch: 6am. He picked up.

“Tench...” Bill squeezed his eyes shut. “...They found the body?..." “_What?_...Fuck! Who?...We'll be right over"

He looked over at Holden, sprawled out, fast asleep, still wearing his suit. He had dark rings under his eyes and his face was almost the same shade as the pillowcase. He seriously considered leaving him sleeping. Making up a story about a family emergency for Wilson and sending him home. But he knew he couldn't do that, Holden couldn't live with that. Besides Holden had an eye, a mind for puzzles and no one could reduce human psychology to a puzzle like Holden. So, basket case or not, he was going to get up and help them.

This would not turn into another Atlanta. 

"Holden."

His partner stirred and opened one eye with a hungover groan. One look at Bill's face had him sitting up. "What? Whats wrong?"

"That was Wilson calling with bad news."

"Oh Fuck..." Holden put his head in his hands. "They found the body."

"No... They haven't found the body... Another kids gone missing."

" Oh _fuck! _Another boy?"

" No.. Not this time... It's Sophie Scarsdale."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for your kind reviews everyone. The next chapter will have more action and then probably only one more after that.


	5. The Pebbles Of The Holy Streams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A theory, a robbery, and a realisation

Holden Woke from a dream. _The sound of fighter jets taking off, marching feet square bashing outside, a row of clean, uniform houses, a 21 gun salute. Looking up. Brocade on someones shoulder. A dress uniform on the bed. _

He wanted to scream. 

He woke to Bill’s voice. The hangover hit him like a mallet… Every cell in his body tensed as he waited for the expected news of Clive’s body… But that was not the news… Not what he was expecting. His heart sank at the memory of the little girl with the sad eyes, curled in her big sister’s lap. Then confusion…_ Bobby’s sister? How? _

He lay in bed a few moments getting his head together. _Bill was right about mixing valium and whiskey._ He heard Bill calling Quantico, talking to Gunn, updating him. “_Yes sir, it certainly does look that way.” _Poor Bill. He’d been hoping to get home for a day with his son. Bill was arguing with Gunn about something. Wendy _“We need her input here sir. She’s proving invaluable.”_

_Gunn wants Wendy back in Quantico. _Thought Holden. _He wasn’t happy with her request to work in the field begin with and now he thinks the case is talking too long, talking too much of our focus… Wendy said he was determined to keep her in the office… I think he had it in for her ever since that office party… Vindictive Prick._

“You coming?” Bill threw a towel at him. "They want us in half an hour. Waylan and June have been taken in for questioning. Nothing official yet.”

On the drive over Holden stared aimlessly out the window at the golden trees, trying to clear his hungover head, while Bill tells them that Gunn is chafing to get results on the case. Also that he’s making noise about needing Wendy back at the office, saying Greg is getting swamped. 

“Greg can manage the paperwork for a week.” She said. “Gunn just likes me under his thumb. I wish we knew what I did to offend him.”

"You didn’t fuck his sleazy friend from the office party.” Holden offered, thinking aloud.

Bill glanced at Wendy. “Warren fucking Freeman? Seriously?”

She nodded slowly. “Gunn actually undid the top button on my blouse before he introduced me.” She said tersely.

Bill clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“I’m used to it. I just wish…” She trailed off. _She wishes the world were an entirely different place… _Thought Holden_ …So do I. _

“So…” Bill said after a moment. “Two kids from the same family. What do we think?”

“Either it’s someone in the family or someone targeting them.” Wendy observed. we’ll need to comb through everyone whose worked on their property, family friends, even government employees working for the city. 

“I like the dad for it.” Holden murmured, still staring out the window. 

Bill looked over his shoulder. 

“Anything to back that up? Cause they’re not going to arrest the guy based on fuck all. He’s just lost two of his kids, he has a lot of local goodwill and there’s no solid lead on him yet.”

“Just a feeling.”

“Oh great, a _feeling_, well the DA’s office will be sure to co-operate then.” He scoffed. “ You’d better not say anything you’re thinking out loud after we leave this car.”

Holden fastened an imaginary zipper over his mouth. Bill grinned at him in the rearview mirror.

As with Clive Conner’s abduction, the room was a mess. Drawers pulled from the bureau, clothes, toys and books everywhere, even the curtains were town down, her mattress pulled off the bed. Two officers were taking pictures of every nook and cranny. Wilson stood in the hallway with them.

“Any fluids?” Wendy asked Wilson. 

“None that we can find. Sure looks like a struggle though.”

“Looks like the aftermath of a police search.” Bill observed. “Why? A kid her size couldn’t have put up much of a fight. How the Hell did the family not hear anything?”

“They claim they were both asleep downstairs. They’ve been on sleeping pills since Bobby went missing. People will sleep though a hurricane on those things.”

“What about the older daughter? May?” Bill pointed to the second bed in the room, it’s blankets stripped and thrown to the floor. 

“She was staying at Reverend Cunningham’s house. A sleepover with his girls.”

“What’s the time frame?”

“Between 11pm and 6am”

“Fuck. Thats quite a few hours to account for.”

Holden had remained quiet. He walked into the room and as he stood in the midst of the chaos. He let his eyes move over the upturned furniture and piles of clothes. A copy of _Anne of Green Gables _lay beside his foot. A pair of little girl’s underpants beside that, a broken barbie doll, a hairbrush… It was hard to know what, if anything, could be missing. But why else would the room be trashed like this? If not to find something or steal something?

“Hey?” He called to one of the cops. “You guys find a piggy bank in here?”

“Not that I recall sir.” 

“Let me know if one turns up please.” 

“Um… Yes sir.”

May had, apparently, been too scared to come home from the Carthwright’s house and was going to stay there again tonight. The Reverend had invited them all to stay at his house until theirs wasn’t a crime scene anymore. Wendy went over to talk to her, not in an official capacity but as a therapist. Leaving the others to question the parents.

At the station a shaken and defensive June and Waylan sat in separate interrogation rooms.

“I just… I just can’t believe I slept through that… We were just downstairs…” June kept saying, her hands shaking on the table. "Just downstairs, sleeping the whole time.” 

Holden spent a good minute and a half watching her silently. Then asked “Mrs Scarsdale, did Sophie have a favourite toy she liked to play with?”

She looked confused at the question.“Um…? Yes she did…She had her rag doll, Molly, since she was a baby… Why?”

“Could you describe the doll for me please?”

“It’s… Made of calico and has red wool hair? Why?”

Holden spread polaroids of the room and recovered items in front of her. “Do you see it here anywhere? Take your time.”

As she looked carefully at each photograph Bill silently raised an eyebrow in an unspoken query, but didn’t undermine him by speaking. Holden didn’t respond. _What are you doing Holden?_

After a few minutes June looked up. “N…No Its not there… She usually sleeps with it. Wasn’t it in the bed?”

“Thank you Mrs Scarsdale. I know you must be exhausted but just a few more questions and we can let you go.” He said gently. 

Bill could sense how focused Holden was. He had a theory, and was on it in the single minded way of a bloodhound on a scent.

“Mrs Scarsdale. Do you or your husband ever discipline your children physically?”

“Well… Yes… Sometimes… But I’ve said it ten times today. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Her voice broke in frustration. “Nothing every parent in America doesn’t do from time to time… Do you have children agent Ford? 

He smiled at her. Bill saw his persona change into the ‘all things to all men’ charmer that extracted confessions from Kemper and Berkowitz.

"I do… Two boys… And believe me I_ know_. He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.

“It’s not easy raising energetic kids!” She cried in sympathy.“Sometimes you have to!”

“It’s the only way. I’m a big believer in a short sharp shock Mr’s Scarsdale and the world is going to hell with this hippie attitude to discipline. But it’s the damn social services, in cases involving kids we _have_ to ask these questions.”

_Lying bastard._ Thought Bill. She seemed more amenable after that. 

“So…Has there been any need for discipline in your house this week?” 

“No! There hasn’t… I wouldn’t hurt my girls Agent!” 

“I’m not implying you would… But when you have to use corporal punishment. What do you use? Your hand? A hairbrush? My mom used to hit me with a hairbrush. He laughed. “Boy did I ever deserve it! I was some hell raiser.”

“My husband takes care of it! His belt, alright? In the rare instances when the children misbehave badly.” She was calmer but still defensive, waiting for an accusation to be made. “But there’s no law against that is there? It’s not like he beats them!”

“Except with his belt.” Bill pondered. Breaking his silence. 

She tuned on him “ Do _you_ have children agent Tench?

“I do.” 

“Well? Don’t you spank your children?”

“I don’t.” He said truthfully. 

She wilted a little, wind taken out of her sails. “We’re not an unusual family. I swear, most of my friend’s husband’s do the same.” She became taciturn again. 

“_What?_” Holden turned to Bill. “ I don’t know how you do it. If I didn’t wail on ‘em occasionally my boys would destroy the house.” He laughed. 

“What are your kid’s names again Holden?” Bill smirked. 

“Timmy and Jason.” Holden said without missing a beat. “Timmy’s six next month and Jason’s four.”

“Great ages” Bill said. Nice there’s not too much of an age gap. They can play together.”

“Right, and fight together.” Holden sighed dramatically. He turned to June. “Your kids get on pretty well? I don’t know what to do with mine sometimes.”

“Oh yes. They’re very close.” Her face suddenly clouded and her eyes filled with tears. “_Were_ very close… Bobby and the girls… Both the older ones dote… _Doted _on Sophie.” She started crying and Holden reached for her hand. All misty eyed sincerity.

“I’m so terribly sorry June. I can’t imagine.”

Bill left the room to smoke a cigarette while Holden commiserated over his fake kids. _God forbid anything happen to little Timmy or Jason. _He thought, chucking to himself. Holden exited a minute later, dead set on heading straight to Waylan. Bill walked beside him, struggling to keep up.

“What was that?” 

“I have a theory.”

“Care to share?”

“Not yet. I have to check something.” 

Waylan was quiet as ever, but he looked freaked out. More than they had had ever seen him. The man looked genuinely spooked. Holden started with a non sequitur:

“Mister Scarsdale. Do your children get an allowance?”

“An allowance? W…Well… kind of, they get payed a little to help me out at the store, pocket change. I don’t give them much. If they need anything they can come to me and ask.”

“Including Sophie?”

“Yes?” He said, suspicious.

“And does she save up her money?”

“Yes “She had…_Has_ a piggy bank.” Despite himself Bill felt a pang of empathy at the _had. _He’d already lost one child in the most horrific way possible.

Holden took out the polaroids again and went through the same process as with June and the doll. 

“Um… Sh..Sure.” He said meekly and shuffled through the pictures. Eventually shaking his head.

To Bill’s surprise Holden seemed satisfied and didn’t have any follow up questions. Not even regarding Waylan beating the kids. 

Bill settled in front of Waylan. He smiled at the exhausted looking man. “Have you spoken to May at all?”

“On the phone… I’ll see her later. We’re staying with Jerry and Meg Carthwright tonight.”

“We’d like to interview her if you don’t mind?”

“I do mind. The poor kid is terrified, she’s been through enough without being interrogated.” 

Bill knew better than to push the issue. He nodded and smiled sadly. 

“The Carthwright’s speak very highly of your family.” He said.

“Y… Yeah I guess they’re more like family. We get on really well. Had kids at around the same time. They’ve always been good to us.”

“They said their children call you Uncle.” 

“Yeah… And ours get along well with their girls. May and Bobby spent a lot of weekends with them.”

“Not Sophie?”

He looked at his hands and blinked tears out of his eyes.

“Sophie doesn’t like sleepovers.”

“I’m so sorry you’re going through this right now.” Bill comforted him. “ I have a son myself and I can’t imagine.”

Waylan shrugged, sniffing. “No agent Tench… You can’t.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you… Were you aware of a friendship between your son and Clive Conners? A few people have mentioned that they knew each other.”

_Something_ flashed momentarily across Waylan’s face, cracking his shy, withdrawn manner. A split second anyone who wasn’t a professional profiler would’ve missed. 

“Not that I know of Agent Tench. He was a popular boy, he had lots of friends.”

Bill grimaced. “Is there anyone you can think of that’s been hanging around your neighbourhood. Trimming trees, collecting trash?”

“I made a list for the Chief.” He said. "No one new I can think of. At least not that I’ve noticed.”

“If you think of anything suspicious at all, please let us know right away.”

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Later in Wilson's office Wendy recounted her visit with May at the Reverend's house.

“She’s either disassociated from shock or… Something else is going on. She’s not remotely as upset as she ought to be about her sister. I can’t say more without talking to her privately without the Carthwrights hanging on her every word.”

Holden was pacing again. An aura of high, manic energy buzzed around him. He stabbed his notebook with his index finger. 

“Her favorite doll… Some of her underwear…Her piggy bank… Her schoolbag…”

“I don’t follow.” Wilson said, looking utterly lost. Didn’t you people say something about underwear taken as a trophy?

“That was before I knew about Molly… Her doll.”

"Agent Ford" Bill griped around his cigarette. “I hope you’re going somewhere with this.”

“All those items were not to be found in the room… And… AND… There was clothing missing from Bobby’s room. Which is next door to the girl’s.”

“So?”

Holden looked disappointed at their denseness. “Weren’t any of you ever kids?”

“No.” Bill said sardonically. “I was born like this.”

He cast his eyes to Wendy, who sat, poised as ever at the desk, looking at them all in that quiet, analytical way of hers.

“Wendy!” He pointed at her. “You were nine years old once. You ever have a fight with your parents?”

Wendy seemed to understand his train of thought. “When I was four I was punished for something, I can’t remember what, and I actually packed a bindle on a stick, like a hobo in a cartoon.”

“What did you bring?” He asked excitedly.

She smiled. “My teddy bear.”

“Obviously… What else?”

“Spare underpants.” She said “In case I had an accident.”

“Of course you were practical even then.” He said seriously. 

“Well I _was_ only four.”

“Money?”

She laughed. “I don’t remember taking money…I definitely took an apple to eat. I made it as far as the neighbours house and ended up eating dinner there… You?”

“I made it all the way to another city’s bus depot…” Holden said smugly. “Got picked up by the cops on my _second _day out.”

“Seriously? How old were…”

Bill cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me for interrupting your trip down memory lane, but are you suggesting that this child ran away?”

“Think about it Bill.” Holden said excitedly. “She took a backpack, clothing, her favourite toy and money.” 

“Explain then, why the scene is a match for Clive Conner’s abduction site? Are you saying she did that all herself? If she wanted to run away she’s have slipped out quietly, not turned the room over.”

“Bill. If a man had abducted her_ He’d _have slipped out quietly and not turned the room over… You said yourself it doesn’t make any sense... there was no blood in her room or sign of another person.”

“She’s small. She couldn’t have fought back as hard as Clive.”

“There’s something off about all of it Bill. You must be feeling it.”

Bill sighed. “ Yeah…I’m feeling it. But unfortunately that won’t cut it in criminal court.”

“I think…”

“You know what I _think_ Holden?” Bill Snapped. “I think that you _want_ to believe this because if the little girl ran away then she didn’t get abducted by a serial killer! Thats not profiling and you know it. Its barely police work, now get your head in the game! ”

Holden looked pissed… Then defeated. He shrugged and sat down at Wendy’s desk. 

Chief Wilson sat at his desk with his head in his hands. “This lateral thinking you do must be fucking exhausting.” He sighed. Are we ready for the vigil in the woods. It’s still our best chance of getting the killer out of the wood work right? 

“Right” Replied Bill. “The whole town knows it's 9pm now and I imagine there’ll be precious few who won’t attend.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Wilson asked.

“Anyone you don’t know. Anyone who behaves abnormally.”

“In this town Abnormal is normal.” Wilson shot back. 

“Anyone jerking off behind a tree.” Said Holden miserably. “They return to re-live the moment.”

Wilson frowned. “He wasn't raped in the forest though. He was possibly killed there but forensics say the injuries from the rape happened around twenty four hours earlier?” 

“Wait… What? “Holden stood up “Why weren’t we informed of that?” 

“I didn’t know myself until this morning… Seems since the media picked up on the case we’re suddenly worthy of a visit from the State Pathologist. He took a second look at the body.” 

Holden rushed out of the room, slamming the door on his way out. Bill followed him. _This was meant to be over already. How many more missing kids would it take before they came up with something concrete?”_

Bill found him standing under a tree outside on the patch of grass that bordered the station. His eyes were closed and he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, whispering. As Bill approached he could hear him counting backwards.

“Five…Four… Three… Two… One… The Birds are singing, the traffic, the trees are rustling, a baby crying, footseps on gravel…” He opened his eyes and continued to talk to himself. “Bill is walking, the sky is blue, the police station, the town hall,” He looked down “my shoes.”

“What are you doing?” 

“The sun, the breeze, my sleeve” He said touching his sleeve. “The leaves burning…”

“Holden?” Bill asked gently “What are you doing?”

“It’s a trick” Holden said, looking everywhere besides Bill. “Someone taught me….To stave off panic attacks.”

“You list all the things around you?”

“All the things you can hear, see, feel and smell.” He explained, still looking almost preternaturally agitated. His voice was coming in quick bursts between hurried breathing.

“Does it work?”

“Kind of…I Left my Valium back at the hotel by mistake.”

“Holden… Please _” _He reached out and put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. He hadn’t expected Holden to wince, it made him feel sick to see him recoil like that. He removed his hand, allowing it to hover helplessly for a moment.

“Sorry.” 

“It’s okBill… You’re not… It’s ok…It’s… This fucking case is fucking with my head…” He twisted his hand in his hair. “Nothing makes sense and now we find out we only had half the fucking autopsy information! If I'd known that I'd have asked different questions!" 

Bill sighed. “Maybe there is something else going on here… Listen I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m not immune to this shit. It’s starting to eat at me too… Come on, let’s go for a drive.” 

Holden looked hesitant and cast a glance back down the street.

“Come on. Wendy can handle herself. There’s nothing needs doing until this evening anyway.”

Holden relented and got into the car, albeit reluctantly. Bill tried not to be a little hurt by the blatant lack of trust. He knew he hadn’t done anything that warranted it. He didn’t need to be a profiler to know Holden was projecting some other issue onto him, onto the whole case. He needed to find out what was going on.

He drove slowly through town and down the main street, It was quiet. Down the big hill to the junction and out the forest road, over the bridge. The leaves were burning against the sky, casting a golden light on the road. It seemed too beautiful a place to include the possibility of murder. Yet they were only yards away from the dump site as they drove by the pile of flowers, notes and teddy bears at the roadside.

They passed three young boys on their bikes. Holden craned his neck to keep them in sight for as long as possible as Bill rounded the corner and they disappeared from view. 

Bill turned on the radio and left it playing, something by the Carpenters. Holden seemed to have calmed down, back into the default distracted silence he preferred these days. After a while they came to a lakeside stop, the view was amazing so they got out for a walk through the woods to the edge of the water. Holden found a flat pebble and skipped it across the mirror flat surface of the lake.

Bill sat on a flat rock and stared out at the water. “So where did you end up, when you ran away?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

“When you were a kid. You said you made it two days away from home?”

“Oh… Yeah.” “I wanted to go home. I was Ten. We’d moved to Connecticut that year. I wanted to go back to New Jersey.”

“Jersey? I thought you were from Brooklyn?”

“I was born there but we moved around a bit. My dad was in the Army, he’s retired now, back in Brooklyn.”

“Whats he like? Typical Army guy?”

“Strict?” Holden chuckled. “Nah! He’s the least ‘Military’ Serviceman you’ve ever met. He’s very soft spoken and calm… Cooperative, follows orders y’know? He’s a sweetheart, they both are.”

“Your mom? She really hit you with a hairbrush?”

“No!” He laughed at the notion. “She’s great. Hilarious. She’s kind of uptight and a little bit of a prude so when she makes a dirty joke you’re not expecting it.” He smiled to himself. “She taught elementary school before she met Dad.”

“You get back to visit them much?” Bill asked. Know thing that the answer was no. Holden rarely, if ever, left Quantico. 

Holden paused. “Not as often as I should, no. I think it was… Probably a couple of days at Christmas… That was the last time… But we talk on the phone a lot.” 

“They must miss you.”

“Uh Huh…”

“I miss my folks every day, well, my mom anyway… Dad was a piece of work.”

“Oh?”

“Drinker. Used to beat the crap out of us.”

Holden looked genuinely distressed, he sat down beside him. “I’m so sorry Bill.” 

“I still loved the bastard but he sure made it difficult sometimes. He could be a scary fucker one moment… Then the most pathetic, pitiable thing I’d ever seen the next. I never knew if I should be afraid of him or sorry for him.”

“You have siblings too right?”

“Oldest of three. Younger brother and sister to take care of.”

“You see them much?”

“Sure, they come… Or used to come, visit us for the Holidays sometimes… It’s exhausting, Brian doesn’t get on with their kids… It’s a whole thing…They think we don’t discipline him enough.”

“By ‘enough’ I assume they mean spanking him?” 

“You bet… When ever they visit it’s… ‘Bill that boy needs to feel the back of your hand.’ Drives… _Drove _Nancy crazy…I made a promise to myself. Never, ever to hit my kid. I never have, never _wanted_ to. It was only after we adopted Brian that it bought home to me how wrong it is for a kid to be afraid of their Father.”

“Jesus… I can’t imagine being scared of my dad.” Holden whispered, rubbing a pebble between his fingers thoughtfully.

Holden figeted and eventually stammered:

"Bill...I'm sorry for any part I played in keeping you away from your family in Atlanta… I wish… I wish things were different for you and Nancy and Brian... You…Of all people… You don’t deserve this… It’s… Just so unfair.”

Bill stared at him sadly. “Holden. It wasn’t you. If you’re going to blame anyone blame the lunatic that murdered twenty seven children…The stress of the Atlanta case didn’t help… But I had problems with Nancy and Brian before I ever met you… Brian has never been a normal kid…” Bill’s voice cracked… “We both know it and have no idea what to do about it… Most of his care falls to her, she feels huge responsibility for his behaviour and… Nothing she does is working… and… I think sometimes Nancy…” He breathed deeply, fighting tears “… I think sometimes she regrets the adoption.”

He felt somehow lighter for having said it out loud. Holden reached over and briefly squeezed his shoulder, wordlessly. 

“I don’t know how that kids feeling… Ever… It’s like you give and give and get nothing back… Then with what happened… It’s… like Dad all over again. It’s someone I love… I _adore_… Who can be so fucking hard to love...It reminds me of Ed Kemper whining about his mother not loving him and all I can think of is being her…Having a child who murders all the neighbourhood cats and dogs and _trying_ to love the little…” He broke off and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

Bill felt like a tool. He'd driven out with the intention of getting Holden to open up and ended up spilling his own guts 

“Brian isn’t a Kemper.” Holden said softly. “He might have problems but I don’t believe he’s like _them_.”

“He had a bad start… We don’t know what happened to him.”

“Right… But you and Nancy are good people Bill… Good parents. People can have bad starts… The worst. Worse that Kemper or anyone we’ve interviewed…And they turn out good. You’re proof of that.”

“Getting beat by your dad isn’t _that_ bad Holden.” Bill chuckled a little. “June Scarsdale was right…It’s not even that unusual…You got walloped occasionally didn’t you? You certainly weren’t all goody two shoes if you went on the lam for two days.” 

“I...” Holden frowned “I guess I was spanked occasionally… I vaguely remember instances… I think it was only when I really deserved it… Which was rare. I _was_ actually a goody two shoes, not much scope for mischief when you travel all the time and don’t make friends easily. Only child, bookworm… I didn’t give much trouble… I was like dad… Cooperative.”

“You must’ve been real homesick then? To take off like that.”

Holden nodded. His jaw tensed and Bill watched as a spasm of anger passed over his face. He suddenly threw the pebble as far as he could across the lake.

“Yeah I _fucking_ hated Connecticut.” He practically spat the words.

“What happened there?”

“Nothing… I just hated it.” He muttered. “ Can we talk about something else please?” He had a wide eyed, drained of blood, look that Bill now knew could herald the start of a panic attack.

Something sparked in Bill’s awareness… Had he ever seen Holden really angry? He’d seen him frustrated and sad and terrified and irritated… When Holden was irritated he’d get snippy and say catty, passive aggressive things… But Bill wouldn’t say, even during his lowest moments in Atlanta, that he’d ever seen Holden truly enraged. 

Until now. That split second. Just a passing look.

Bill didn’t push him. He nodded and changed the subject. They needed to head back and reconvene with Wendy. As they drove back he cast a worried eye at Holden. The younger agent, with the dark rings under his eyes, the glassy eyed, haunted look.

Bill knew he was profiling his own co-worker. He couldn’t help it.

He knew from interviews, from research, from talking to Wendy. That people almost always put a positive spin on their childhood. Because it’s never exclusively miserable andeven miserable children think they’re having a ‘normal’ childhood most of the time. 

He thought it was normal to never know which version of Dad was coming home that day. Fun Dad or Scary Dad or Sad Dad… Normal for Dad to hit Mom, then cry and cry and be sorry… When he was young he thought everyone’s Dad did that.

Holden had painted a non-violent but rather lonely picture of his childhood. Bill imagined a ten year old Holden Ford:

_Talkative…Probably too talkative… Little smartass. He would have been shy with strangers despite his chattiness. Even worse, if such a thing were possible, at socialising then than he is now. Intellectual… Insufferably precocious in the way that only children could be sometimes. Very smart, and knew it, too smart for his own good. A decent student but far too imaginative, he probably got yelled at for daydreaming a lot…_

He thought of all the times he’d caught Holden off in a world of his own. He did that even now as a grown man… 

_Terrible at sports… Bullied at school... Ahead of his age group in academics but probably didn’t kiss a girl until he was twenty…_ _Sensitive._

Bill wouldn’t have pegged him as sensitive when they’d first started working together. Because he lived so much in his head. His intellect, tactlessness and the attendant arrogant confidence in his own intelligence made him seem callous and masked the fact that, in fact, he didn’t know how to handle the emotional side of himself, or his life at all. 

_Terror when he felt anything real. _

Holden stirred in the car seat. “Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“When this is over, when we get back. We have to watch Wendy’s back. Defend her to Gunn. He’s great for the unit but he’s a sexist bastard and he’d have her tethered to the office as a glorified secretary if he had his way. And she’s certainly not a sexual poker chip for him to play to his advantage. We need to make him understand that there’s no team without her."

“Oh I know. I fully intend to.”

_xxxxxxxxxxxx_

Wendy, having thoroughly disturbed the local police force with her description of the possible types of sexual sadist they were looking for, decided to take Wilson’s advice and take five. She didn’t even have that long before the other two agents knocked on her door and invaded her room.

“Bobby wasn’t raped and murdered in the woods.” Holden stated the obvious.

“I know I was there when Wilson told us, remember?”

“He was raped the day before and hid it for 24 hours. Then someone murdered him in the woods.”

“That throws out profile of an opportunistic stranger right out of the game.” Bill said. He wasn't snatched from his bike by a drifter."

“It was someone who knew him.”

“Right.”

If the rapist and murderer were even the same person.”

There was something wrong with this whole situation. They all felt it. She knew the profile didn’t make sense, the killers pattern didn’t line up. It had to be two people, maybe working together. There was no other explanation… But the two unsub types… They _didn’t_ work together.. So what the hell were they actually dealing with?

Holden had looked like a fool positing that Sophie had staged her own kidnapping… But Wendy could understand his desperation for an answer. 

Despite everything, She was finding the whole experience of working in the field fascinating. As nauseating as the case was, as as hard as she found dealing with the victim’s families… She felt… At home, in this setting. Like she belonged. As long as she’d lived she had always been out of place, as a child she’d loved science fiction because she felt like and alien herself. At college, in her relationship with Annaliese and the Boston scene, she’d always been an outsider and isolated. 

She never remembered fitting in as well as well as she did in the BSU. Strange that two characters like Holden and Bill, on the face of it so different to herself, could finally give her that sense of belonging and purpose she’d been missing all these years… More than she’d ever felt among her fellow academics, or even with her own family. For all that they were from different backgrounds, philosophies and had utterly different temperaments, she’d never been so much on the same page as anyone before.

She loved watching them work together. She loved reading them and how well they read each other, she loved that they could look at her and she’d know what they were thinking, and that they had faith in her abilities and didn’t question her constantly just because of her gender. That they felt totally comfortable rushing into her hotel room to throw theories at her. She liked them both as people and for the first time, maybe ever, she didn’t feel judged. 

But the price of caring about people, she discovered, was worrying about them. And she was worried about both of them. But particularly Holden. She didn’t want to lose him from the unit, but The panic attacks couldn’t go unchecked. He was running the risk of so many major psychological and physical problems by not addressing them properly. When this case was over, she was going to insist he see a psychotherapist. Even if she had to drag him to one herself. He looked shattered. 

“You two need to go get some rest before this evening.” She said. “I’ll see you at the car at 8.30.”

Holden nodded, closing his eyes. “ I am pretty exhausted. See you both later.”

Before Bill followed him out she whispered. “Bill. A word.” 

He closed the door and leaned against it sighing deeply. “I know, he’s a mess. Something about all this has him really rattled. He can’t focus, or he’s_ too_ focused on the wrong areas. He’s off in his own world half the time and the episodes are getting worse. ”

“He’s exhibiting signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“I saw some of that during Korea, they called it Shell Shock back then. Only thing is, Holden hasn’t been in battle, he's been sitting round an office.”

“War isn’t the only thing that can cause it. Any trauma that creates an imminent fear of death can do it. Sometimes witnessing another person’s trauma can even do it. You probably saw some of that in Korea too.”

“You think Kemper hugging him kicked all of this off?”

“I think it didn’t help. I think it made it real for him.”

“Atlanta made it worse. Cases with kids… They’ll fuck you right up.”

“He’s particularly affected by them.” She said. 

“Isn’t everyone?” Bill asked.

“Think about that school principal he was obsessed with. He was so disturbed by the idea that the man might be a threat to children that he acted on a hunch and got him fired… And frankly, given what we’ve learned since about paraphilia and fetishization…I think he might have made the right call.”

“He pushed for Williams in Atlanta. He also copped to the child prostitution angle before anyone else. It’s like he sees deviancy where no one else does.”

“And most of the time he’s right on the money.”

“Well… Right or not, his instincts won’t get us arrest warrants or convictions. We have to be systematic about this.” Bill replied. “We can’t be seen to fly by the seat of our pants, especially after Atlanta.”

“I know that Bill. I’m not asking you to agree with any of his flakier thoeries. But speaking from a psychological standpoint, be aware that he’s vulnerable right now, and we don’t know how bad it is.”

“Oh I’m well aware. He's like a raw nerve. Don’t worry Wendy. I won’t take my verbal belt off.” He said grimly. “Even if he does deserve it from time to time.” 

“Unlike a certain person of interest that we know.”

“Right… Fucking asshole. What do you think of him? Normal New England dad?”

“I don’t think he’s a psychopath. But I think he’s projecting a face that isn’t exactly his own. He has a temper, I think his daughter is afraid of him.”

“Do you think he sexually abused his kids?”

“That’s harder to tell. It's always possible. But It’s also possible he’s just bad tempered sometimes and a standard disciplinarian. May doesn’t show signs of sexual trauma as far as I can tell. But like I said. I can’t talk to her alone.”

“I’ll tell you one thing. He didn’t like Clive and Bobby being friends. He didn’t say it but I could tell.”

“I don’t think anyone did except Clive’s mother.”

Bill nodded. “Listen I’m gonna go get a drink downstairs and try and unwind a bit.”

“Ok.”

“Wendy?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you came.” He said, then quickly left the room.

_Me too. _She thought.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx 

A Sundown Vigil in the woods was a difficult idea from the start. Not enough light to move without care of observe body language properly for a start, but there was one advantage to this. People felt safe in the dark. They’d be off their guard if they thought no one was looking at them. As they walked into the clearing, their way lit by lanterns in the trees. Each person was given a votive to hold. The small candle illuminating their face. Holden found the small hillock just behind the clearing gave him a panorama of faces in various states of distress. He gestured to Wendy to come stand beside him. She was clearly struggling with her shoes. Tree roots and heels don’t mix. Bill preferred to mingle in the crowd and talk to people in hushed tones.

Wendy touched Holden’s cuff and murmured “Twelve O’Clock.” 

Waylan Scarsdale and Reverend Cunningham had arrived together. Their wives weren’t with them, at home with the kids, Holden assumed. They began shaking hands.

“Does he seem too calm to you?” He whispered. “I’ve seen parents of missing kids before. They’ve all been a mess. Barely functional at best.”

“Waylan? I’m finding it hard to read him. I don’t know, there are so many ways to react to trauma. No two people will act the same way.”

“Wendy I know I’m not exactly using scientific method here but I don’t like him.”

“Any specific reason? Or just the general cut of his gib?”

“He’s hiding something.”

“Find out what and you win the jackpot.” She teased. 

Cunningham stood in the centre of the circle, bathed in the light of their candles. He raised his hands, palms upwards.

"Now him..." Wendy began.

He began to speak.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. We are gathered here today, people of our community, of all faiths and creeds, to remember the life of Bobby Scarsdale. One of our beloved children. Taken from us in the bloom of youth. Let us remember him in his childish grace, his exuberance, his love, his human potential. Let us take three minutes of silence for Bobby Scarsdale, for Clive Conners and for Sophie Scarsdale to grieve, and pray for justice for the dead, and the safe return of all our missing children.” 

There was silence then. People bowed their heads, some cried, some closed their eyes. Holden scanned the crowd. There was a small gathering around Waylan Scarsdale. He was weeping silently. _Not as calm as I thought perhaps._ His face was contorted with rage and grief.

As soon as the silence was over someone approached Waylan and whispered in his ear. Holden recognised it as one of the younger cops from the Oakdale Station. Waylan looked concerned and followed him out of the clearing. Holden signalled to Bill and the three of them followed suit. 

They approached the young Cop out on the road, where the cars were parked. Waylan had taken off in his.

“What’s going on? Has Sophie been found?” Holden asked him quietly.

“No. The Hardware Store’s been broken into and vandalised. Probably in the last half hour. Looks like whoever it was waited until everyone was at the vigil.”

“Any idea who might’ve done it?” Asked Bill.

“There were marks from bike tyres outside. My money’s on teenagers… Or else someone sure as hell has it in for that poor family.”

xxxxxxxxxx

The Store was relatively undisturbed inside. A window was broken, the till box had been opened and Waylan said a sum of maybe two hundred dollars had been stolen. Waylan said he kept a spare key hidden in the store but no one knew where. In any case someone found it. They also took several blades from the saw section, machete type’s for clearing scrub. 

The storefront was defaced with red paint reading “MURDERER” in four foot letters.

xxxxxxxxxx

Back at the hotel Bill got ready for bed while holden watched TV with the sound off. 

“ Well that…” He said “…Was a waste of our time. Turns out the action was back in town.”

“You think it’s just kids messing around?” Asked Holden absently “Or does someone know something?”

Bill shrugged. “ Kids can know things.” He turned off the TV, and both lamps before going to bed. 

Holden got under the sheet and closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep…Again. He briefly considered talking a valium but the gnawing craving for it had him more worried than the insomnia did. _Better tired tomorrow than a drug addict._

He didn’t quite believe it. He was so exhausted these days he knew he wasn’t on the ball. His intuition had abandoned him. He wasn’t doing these kids justice. Kids. Faces danced behind his eyelids. Sophie, so young and shy. Her dark curls obscuring her face. Clive with his oversized glasses, serious expression and secrets. Bobby, his small body bruised and battered, his ghost begging to be heard. He had hidden his injuries from everyone for a full day and night before he was murdered. Was he ashamed? Was he just scared? Was his abuser so close to home that he couldn’t say anything or so well respected that it wouldn’t matter if he did? Was someone threatened?

_You want to protect the people you love don’t you little boy?_

Holden shuddered. _I hear you Bobby. Even if no one else did._

Out of nowhere another face swam into his mind. Sad, pale and thin, framed by dark hair. May who had lost both her siblings. One murdered and the other missing, she had looked drained by grief when Holden met her, after Bobby’s death… Wendy had said… that May wasn’t reacting with the expected anxiety about her sister. 

_Kids can know things. _Bill’s voice echoed in his mind.

_Kids can know things._

And he knew. 

He listened quietly as Bill’s breathing became soft snoring, and crept out of bed. Carefully he gathered his clothes and dressed by the moonlight at the window. He rummaged for a moment in the bedside locker and retrieved a small flashlight. Then he wrote a note on the hotel stationary for Bill. Then slipped out, carefully closing the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's cracked it. But will anyone believe him?


	6. The Childless Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discoveries are made

Bill and Wendy walked into the holding area. Holden was a mess. Blood dripping from his nose, split lips, split eyebrow, rapidly blackening eye. He was leaning heavily on the bunk, breathing like he’d just run a marathon… He didn’t seem to care. He had an absent look, like he'd been hollowed out.

“Holden what the fuck have you done?”

_xxxxxxxxxxxx_

**_Five hours Earlier._ **

_Bill, You’re going to be angry. Thats OK I can live with that._

_I can’t drag you and Wendy into this, from a professional standpoint. I think I know what going on but I can’t be 100% sure. Tell Gunn if you want, I’ll resign if I have to._

_Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid or hurt myself. If I’m right you’ll see me sometime morning or afternoon with a full explanation. Don’t say anything to the locals, even Wilson, about me leaving._

_Sorry about this but you’ll understand later. _

_H._

Wendy crumpled the note and put out her hand. “Lighter?” 

“Seriously? What is he James Bond?” He did hand her his lighter though. He didn’t dare resist Wendy with that tone of voice.

She lit the note and let it burn to ash in her coffee cup. “We won’t be telling Gunn.” She said. 

“I think Gunn would let him get away with it as long as we were honest.” Bill said. “He hates being sidelined.”

“Not until Holden has a chance to explain himself.”

Bill snorted derisively. “ Holden had a chance to explain himself last night before he took off. Fuck him, let him live with Gunn’s wrath.”

Wendy held firm.“I say we keep it under wraps until later today. Holden has food poisoning until further notice. It’s Sunday. Gunn won’t want to be disturbed.”

“Fine… But that explanation had better be a doozy”

They went about the Sunday morning routine at the station as usual. Wilson returned from Church and started catching up with paperwork. They made excuses for Holden. As they had planned. 

“Poor Fella.” Wilson said “I ought to ask my wife to bring him some of her chicken soup.”

“Trust me, that’s not a good idea. Nil by mouth for the moment.” Said Bill with a grimace. “Any movement on the Hardware robbery?”

‘Well, Old Mrs Maloney lives on Henry Street, she said she saw a boy on a bike riding out of town like the Devil was after him at around the time of the Vigil, there’s been a couple of bike thefts recently. So I reckon our teenager theory is correct… Damn cruel thing to do to a grieving family I must say.”

“Teenage boys have reduced empathy and often profile as sociopaths just after puberty.” Wendy said. “Most of them grow out of it.”

“Well if I get my hands on the little bastards they’re going to get a hiding.” Wilson grumbled. 

“Is it just me or do the kids in this town run absolutely wild?” Asked Bill. “ I mean, I ran a little wild myself but hell…”

“Its a country thing.” Waylan shrugged. “Its safe here… Or at least it _was _safe so kids just kind of … take off … if they’re not in school. There’s so much to do for youngster, fishing, bikes, swimming. The teenagers go to derelict cabins and hides in the woods to drink and smoke reefer, blow off steam. I guess they’re wild but we still know where to find ‘em most of the time.”

“The boys.” Wendy murmured “Seems the girls don’t have as much fun."

“Oh you’d be surprised, a lot of the girls …Well they have to sneak out, if they respectable, but boy there are some well climbed drainpipes on this town. I’ve caught as many girls as boys at various hangouts, usually together, if you know what I mean.”

They worked until noon. Bill checked his watch every few minutes anxiously, damning Holden to hell for stressing him out like this.

The bell rang signalling someone in the main office. Wilson left for a few moments. There was a yell, and the sound of a struggle. Bill slowly got up and approached the doorway, drawing his revolver. 

xxxxxxxxx

**Nine hours Earlier.**

Holdenmoved quietly through town. Saturday night and all was suspiciously quiet. No one daring to be out with the fear in the air. The moon was huge like a silver coin in the cloudless sky. He shivered at the October chill in the air. Starting at the Hardware store and its vicious slash of graffiti. He saw the tyre tracks, mug encrusted, and followed them as far as they went. Across the junction, down to the bridge and up the track. 

He remembered the three boys on their bikes that he and Bill had seen on their way to the lake. They hadn’t seen them on the way back. He was already tired from the walk. But after what felt like forever he arrived at the corner where they’d spotted them. Sure enough there was a track leading up the wooded hill soon after. 

He took the track and found he didn’t even need his flashlightas even as the trees became thicker the path was still pale from the moon. He shrugged off the feeling that he was being watched by unfriendly eyes. _I’ve interviewed the most dangerous people on earth and a night hike is freaking me out? _The path went uphill, into the heard of the forest. It reminded him of something from a fairy tale. The bike tracks were clear enough at first. Then ,as the track deteriorated, they dissappeared into the tree roots and stones. Eventually the path petered out and he took out his flashlight and began to search. 

Sure enough, a few yards away he he found three bikes. Old ones, two of them were not kids bikes but the saddles and handlebars had been adjusted… _They have to be close. _He shone the flashlight in every direction. Methodically searching the ground. A patch of mud revealed a small footprint.

“Gotcha!” he whispered, following the direction it led, slowly through the undergrowth. Carefully watching the ground. Another print... A snapped off branch where someone had probably grabbed it to try and cross the stream… A piece of string tied to a tree, maybe to mark the way in the dark. But now the sun had started to rise and a cold light flooded the forest. 

Eventually, exhausted , covered scratches and suit stained with mud,he found a tumbled down shack with a tin roof nestled against the hill. Adeer hunter’s hide perhaps, or maybea storage shed for foresters. Either way it had been disused for a time… But not anymore. The remains of a campfire outside were still smouldering. He made some noise, tapping the window and rattling the door. 

“Wake up! It’s ok. I won’t tell anyone you’re here.” He called out. 

Silence for a few long minutes, then a pale, worried face looked over the windowsill. Holden recognised it right away. 

“Hi Clive.” He said. 

The boys head disappeared from the window, and the old door creaked open slowly. Clive stood in the doorway with a hedge cutting machete brandished in both hands, with a degree of uncertainty in his eyes. He was small for his age and almost dwarfed by his own weapon. 

“No need for that Clive.” Holden said softly. Sitting on a log by the remains of the fire. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.”

Behind Clive someone moved in the shack, a smaller figure stood behind him and stared out with big, frightened eyes. She was holding her red haired doll. 

“Hi Sophie.” Holden waved at her. 

“Wh..What do you want?” Clive’s voice sounded so high and young... And frightened.

“My Name’s Holden. I work for the FBI. Your mom really misses you Clive. She thinks you’re dead.”

Clive blinked tears out of his eyes and let them roll down his cheeks. Still clutching the hilt of the machete with white knuckles. 

“No one can know where we are.” He said “ Or we’ll end up dead too.”

“Like Bobby?” Asked Holden.

“Yeah.”

“Do you know who killed him?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to tell me so we can do something about it?”

Clive shook his head. 

Holden sighed. “Ok. You don’t trust me. That’s fine, why should you? I guess I can tell you what I’ve discovered over the last few days. I was called in by the state department. My job is to profile serial killers, that means I try to figure out why murderers kill, why evil people think and act the way they do.”

Clive looked interested but he maintained his defensive stance. Holden tried to keep his body language relaxed and open.

“So we talked to the Scarsdales and your mom. And a few other people from town and I think I have a pretty good picture of what happened… But I want your side of the story.”

“W..What do you think happened?” Asked the boy. His voice a little steadier.

“I think that you and Bobby were close.” He watched carefully as more tears gathered in the boy’s eyes. “Closer than friends.” He said gently. “I think you loved each other… And I think someone in town, an adult, was…” He was mindful of the small girl standing behind Clive, clutching back of his shirt. “…Hurting him… And I think you wanted to help him… Am I correct?”

The boy nodded his head, his lower lip trembled.

“I think you witnessed his murder or at least knew who it was. I think the person who killed him him threatened you, or your mom. I think you told May… And that she helped you run away. I think you and May staged your kidnapping… And later Sophie’s. I think she’s been bringing you food and supplies up here, to keep you safe.”

Holden paused. The boy nodded again. 

“And I think she plans to leave with you and Sophie tonight. Because she has the money now, from her dad’s Hardware store.”

“Are you going to stop us?” Clive asked, sticking out his jaw in a chain attempt to look tough.

Holden thought about it for a moment. “No” He said. “I won’t... But Clive. You deserve a home, to go to school and finish you education, It’s no life out there for kids on the street. Just more chances for bad people to hurt you.

“It’s still safer than here.” The boy said, with certainty.

“Ok… Maybe so. But If there’s someone in town hurting kids I need to know who, so I can stop them.”

“You can’t.” He stated. 

“Clive, I know it seems that way to you. But it’s different for adults. No one is above the law… Not really.”

Holden hadn’t been expecting the boy to laugh. There was no humour in it, just a disturbing cynicism that no child should be able to express. Clive finally lowered the Machete and shook his head. “You have no idea.” 

“Then help me understand. Please.”

“You won’t believe me.”

Holden’s heart cracked open for the kid. “Clive look at me…”

The kid’s distrustful eyes met his and Holden said, with the most direct honesty he could. “Clive… Whatever comes out of you mouth next I promise I’ll believe you.”

Clive turned to Sophie. “Go back inside and play with Molly for a bit Soph.” He said gently. She nodded and retreated back inside. Clive closed the door and approached Holden. Trailing the machete in one hand. 

“If you touch me I swear to God I’ll kill you.” He said. Holden held his hands in front of him in a gesture of compliance. “Wheres your gun?” The kid demanded. 

“I didn’t bring it.” Holden said truthfully. 

“Show me!”

Holden flicked aside his jacket hem to show the holsterless belt. Clive seemed satisfied but still cautiously kept one hand on the hilt.

The boy stood in front of Holden and lowered his voice to a whisper, presumably to spare Sophie, who was watching them through the tiny window. 

“Bobby called over on his way home and asked me to meet him in the woods that day…He said something happened. He looked… Sick or somethin.” So I took off a while after him and we met beside the stream. He couldn’t speak to me properly… Like, there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t make the words…He…” Clive’s voice wavered. “…He took off his shirt…And his pants… He was covered in B…Bruises and… He had scratches here…” The boy indicated with his fingernails on both his hips and buttocks… He had marks on his arms here…” He indicated his upper arms “Like hand prints… He..He was cryin’ and he was begging me not to tell anyone… I thought it might’ve been his old man… Cause his old man would hit him a lot and whack him with his belt… That’s why it had to be secret that we were… Friends… His dad beat him real bad when he found out we were hanging around together…I guess… I guess he must’ve suspected something… But Bobby said It wasn’t him… It… It had happened before and…And he said he’d never told anyone before… Thats when I knew who it was...

“Who was it Clive? Who hurt him?”

The boy gulped, fighting back tears. “I just…I just wanted him to stop hurting… I swear… I didn’t mean anything by it…”

“ What did you do Clive?”

Clive, looked at his feet, squirming out of his skin. He whimpered and shook his head.

“Clive, you can tell me. You won’t get in trouble.”

“I kissed him.” The boy whispered under his breath, so quiet Holden barely heard him… “I did it and.. He freaked out and started crying and he… Ran off… And th…That was the last time I saw him!” He sobbed, letting the machete fall to the ground and putting both hands over his mouth to stifle his sobs. 

Holden slowly and carefully reached out from his seat and pulled the boy into a hug. Cradling his shaking body in his lap.

“It’s not your fault.” He whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I… I didn’t help him! I just made it worse and I should have _known_… I should have underst…”

“You should have understood? Undertsood what he was going through? Why is that Clive?”

The boy said nothing more but continued to weep.

“Shhhhh… Easy… Its ok…Its ok…” Holden rocked him slightly and made meaningless sounds of comfort until he began to calm a little. 

There was a sound behind them and he looked over his shoulder to see May standing there among the ferns. A defeated look on her face. Puffed out from running uphill. She was wearing a pair of boys overalls and a plaid shirt. She’d hidden her hair under a cap. She looked just like a little boy. She was carrying a backpack.

“It’s ok May.” Holden said. “I’m not stopping you, or telling on you… I just need to know who hurt Bobby.”

May approached them and put her hands on Clive’s shoulders. the boy turned his body and stood up. Clutching her hand. Still hiccoughing with tears. The two kids sat down beside Holden on the log. Sophie came out of the house and came to sit on May’s lap. Eyeing Holden distrustfully. 

“ May… Can you tell me what happened next please?”

“I went to see Clive next evening... I went looking for Bobby and thought he might be at Clive’s.” She whimpered. “I thought he was still alive at that point… I found Clive at home, hiding under the bed. His mom was at work… He… I really didn’t want to tell me what had happened but… Eventually he did.”

“You didn’t tell your mom or dad?”

She rolled up her sleeve. There was an ugly circle of bruises around her wrist. “That’s from yesterday... He… He seems normal but Sometimes he just goes off… Can’t control himself. Hits us, hits Mom. He hated Bobby and Clive being friends. He beat him one time ‘till he was bleeding, ‘till Bobby passed out. I thought then that he’d killed him… He would’ve freaked out more about me being friends with Clive than about…” Her face contorted with sudden anger. " If we could have told him what was going on Bobby would be alive right now!"

“Is that why You kids were always at the Cunningham’s or Clive’s house? You didn’t want to be at home?”

She nodded. “Dad liked the Reverend because he thought he could stop Bobby from liking boys…" She sneered. "He thought we could pray and live like good Christians and make it stop…It didn't work."

"What Happened?" He prodded them to continue. "What did you tell her Clive?"

Clive didn't open his mouth and after a brief glance between them she spoke. "The next day… Someone… cornered Clive after school and choked him, said Bobby was a snitch and he’d make sure Clive ended up like him if he told anyone what Bobby had said… I knew he could do it. So…”

“You did the only thing you could do.” Holden finished. “You kept him safe, maybe saved his life.”

“I couldn’t stay in that town, knowing what happened. So we messed up Clive’s room and I cut myself and smeared blood around to make it look like he’d been murdered… And I wasn’t going to leave Sophie alone with my Dad. Mom can’t protect anyone, not even herself." She said bitterly.

“You had us thinking there were two killers you know that? Really messed with our heads.”

She smirked, self-satisfied. 

“I can make sure your dad stops hurting you and whoever it is who killed your brother goes to prison for the rest of his life.” Holden told her. “You’ll all be safe… But I need you and Clive to make a statement to the police.”

She laughed coldly. Holden shuddered. It was the same jaded laugh that Clive had reacted with when Holden said he could help him.

“Why do you think that’s not possible?” He asked them. “I’m FBI, I know the District Attorney. It’s literally my _job_ to put people like that in prison.”

“Do you know who raped and killed my brother?” She asked. Holden was slightly surprised that the word had come out of her mouth. Sorry that she had to say it. To _know_ it.

“Bobby wasn’t the only one either.” Whispered Clive. 

“Abusing other kids?” Holden asked cautiously. 

“Yeah…”

“You?”

Clive didn’t respond verbally but the sudden flush of colour to his face and shameful way he looked anywhere but at Holden was confirmation enough. May put her arm around his shoulders.

He looked at May. “You?”

She turned her face away. Holden felt bile rise in his throat. 

“I know he probably threatened you, but I promise to keep you safe.” He told them.

“You won’t believe us and even if you did you couldn’t help us.”

“Try me.”

“Your friend.” She muttered.

“May!” Clive said nervously. “Don’t!”

“My friend? I don’t know who you mean?”

“Sam Wilson. The Policeman… Still think you can help us Mister F.B.I?”

A feeling of numbness began to creep down from Holden’s scalp, down his spine and arms… _The slowness of the investigation… The lack of evidence… The partial autopsy… The real timeline only coming to light after the State Pathologist stepped in… When he had no choice but to tell them…The comforting hand on his shoulder… That sympathetic ear… The helpful suggestion that maybe it had been two people…_

Bile rose up in his throat._ They had been royally fucked with. _

“Are you OK Mister?”

He couldn’t breathe… But this time it wasn’t fear and panic that gripped his body but rage.

“I’m going to kill the bastard!” He gasped. Not meaning to say it, not in front of the children.

“You believe us?” Asked May, clearly surprised. 

“Yeah…Yeah I do… It won’t be easy convincing the others without evidence though… Do you know the name of anyone else he might have hurt? We’ll need statements.”

“I’m not helping you.” She said. “ like you said no ones gonna believe you and I don’t wanna end up dead. I’m getting us out of here. We’ll take our chances on the road.”

Holden chuckled “On the road? You kids going to hop a freight train to ‘Frisco and become folk guitarists huh?”

“Maybe.” She said defiantly. _Oh God the innocence!_

“You don’t care that that bastard is hurting kids and will probably continue to do so for the rest of his life?”

“We _can’t_ stop him.” She said. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Holden sighed. “Yes there is, actually. But you’re not going to like it. You do the scary thing, you come down from here with me and make an official statement to me and my partner. We build a case, arrest him.” Even as Holden laid it out for her he felt his own doubt creeping in. _A cop… A fucking bent cop… A fucking bent pedophile cop… This wouldn’t be a picnic to get support for_… _They look after their own._

“And what happens to us?" Asked Clive "In between the statement and arrest? Do we have to go to court? Will we be allowed to stay at home? Go to a foster home?” 

Holden pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut against a tension headache. “If we didn’t get a confession there would have to be a trial yes. But he’d be in jail during that time. There’d be no reason you couldn’t go home.”

“Dad.”

“Oh yeah… Well we could fix something so that he had to stay away from you all... Speaking of whom... Why did you paint what you painted on the storefront?"

"If Bobby and I had been able to talk to him... Even once, without getting a hiding for it... If he'd loved us...AT ALL...Then we would've gone to him for help" She swallowed down a rising sob. "He might as well have killed my brother with his own hands."

He could feel himself losing them. Feel himself failing them as he spoke…He sounded pathetic, disingenuous. The fact was they were probably safer up here in the shack than anywhere else in the county right now. He swallowed the lump in his throat and made a decision to take a risk. 

“Listen… I could drag you down there with me. But I won’t do that. I won’t tell anyone you’re up here. I’ll keep your secrets… But I’m going to ask you to stay put and give me 12 hours... Just think about it, please.

Three frightened and sceptical faces stared back at him.

“And if you can’t do that… If you get too scared and have to run… I want you to take my phone number and address in Quantico, Virginia and also my parents in New York. I want you to know you have a safe place to stay there, no matter what.” He took out his pen and notepad and wrote the information down, handing it to May.

“If you don’t hear from me by tonight, you can take off…I’m probably going to be in jail.”

“In jail? Why?” Asked Sophie, speaking for the first time.

“Because I’m going to be going in there with no evidence and accusing the Police Chief of murder and… Other things. And no one’s going to want to hear it. And I’ll have to stop him from doing it again… Any way I can.”

“So don’t.” Said May curtly. “Just keep quiet, let us go, and leave town.”

“I can’t do that May. Think of all the other kids he’s hurting, or might hurt in the future.”

“Why do you care so much?” She choked out, her voice cracking. “No one else… _No one…_”

“No one else understood.” He told her. “But I do… Before I leave I’m going to tell you a story…”

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Bill drew his revolver and went into the main office. Where he found Wilson flat on his back, and Holden on top of him, beating the shit out of him. He’d thought once, that he’d caught a glimpse of Holden at his angriest… He was wrong. There was pure, murderous rage in the young man’s eyes now. As he laid into the police chief with both fists. Two cops were on him in a moment and pulling him off the Chief. Who’s face was a bloody mess. He’d obviously put up a fight through because Holden didn’t look much better himself.

Bill couldn’t move. He just stood there gaping at the spectacle, wanting to pinch himself, because this? This couldn’t possibly be happening. 

“Wilson had to be taken to the Hospital, concussion and a broken nose and orbital bone.” Bill hissed at Holden through the bars of the Oakdale drunk tank. Where he was being temporarily held.

“Good.” Holden murmured, wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve. 

Wendy wasn’t amused. ‘Holden, I’m only going say this once… Explain yourself. We’re going to call Gunn in fifteen minutes…Theres no way we can salvage this.”

“I know I’m fired Wendy… You don’t have to tell me…”

“Want to tell us what the hell’s going on?” She passing him a tissue, which he took gratefully and pressed to his nose. 

“You know for a moment I'd convinced myself...I thought I could convince you… But then when I saw him… I just… _Knew_… He’s so smug, so settled into his role, so popular… That bastard has so much power locally…I Fucking lost it. I just knew no one would believe me, and that he’d keep sabotaging anything we tried to do… I blew it.”

“Are you accusing Wilson of sabotaging the case?” Asked Wendy

“I’m accusing Wilson of raping and murdering Bobby Scarsdale and sexually abusing Clive Conners, May Scarsdale and god knows how many others!" He cried, his hands were shaking violently. "I just couldn’t help thinking of all the dirt he must’ve had on the local kids, any of their small town misbehaviour he could have used against them, the fucking _manipulation_… I just… S..saw red.”

Bill had been silent until this point Watching Holden closely. He knew Holden was unstable, that any analysis of his mental state would discredit him immediately. But he knew Holden Ford… And Holden Ford didn’t walk into a room and punch people. He was sure of that. Holden ford wasn't having a panic attack in that cell. He was trembling with rage.

“Holden? How do you know that?” He asked quietly. 

“They told me!” He said “May and Clive. And before you ask. I’m not telling you where they hiding, Sophie’s there too.” 

“Clive and Sophie are alive?” Bill said with a mix of relief and confusion.

“May hid them… She staged the kidnappings and robbed the store too. That kid is either going to be an agent or a master criminal one day.”

“It would explain the inconstancies in the profile.” Wendy said.

“And you didn’t bring them home, as per your job description… Why exactly?” asked Bill.

“They’re safer where they are now than they are at home. Thyre right not to trush teh fucking adults in this place...And they won’t make any statements unless they trust _me_… And they won’t do _that_ unless Wilson is out of commission long enough for them to talk to you.”

“So how the hell are they supposed to do that if I don’t know where they are?” 

“If I've gained their trust They’ll come to you.”

“And if you didn’t?”

“Then we’re fucked.”

“Well Wilson will be concussed and off work for a couple of days at least.” Wendy Shrugged.

“How do we even know these kids were telling the truth?” Asked Bill. 

“I know.” Holden said, with a distant look in his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Gunn had to be informed. To Bill’s surprise and relief, once he’d heard Holden’s theory,he’d seemed more concerned than angry. Gunn had told him to keep an eye on Holden and make sure the local cops weren’t mistreating him. That he’d try and run interference for as long as possible to stop his transfer to county jail. 

“You are, of course, suspended pending a hearing… When Wilson comes to he’ll probably press charges also.” Bill told him as he dabbed Holden’s shredded knuckles with iodine through the bars.

“He hasn’t pulled us off the case... Yet, but that only because it’s Sunday and the paperwork can’t be filed… Essentially we have around 24 hours to build a case or you go to jail and Wilson gets away with it.”

“You think the other cops can be trusted with evidence?” Holden asked.

Bill Sighed. “After Atlanta I’m not sure of anything.” He said. 

Holden was uncharacteristically silent. He didn't even flinch or hiss when the iodine hit his cuts. He’d stayed that way for most of the afternoon, sitting cross legged on the bunk, staring through the bars, his mind miles away. While Bill sat at a desk near the holding cell playing solitaire. He wouldn’t allow any of the cops to spell him. He wasn’t leaving Holden alone. 

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Bill asked eventually. Holden looked up. “You’ve ruined your career, fucked the case and made our unit look unprofessional. Left us hanging on a thread of one of your hunches and the word of three children who may or may not be lying and may not even make a statement.”

Holden didn’t respond. Bill squeezed his hand lightly before letting go. 

“Holden? Are you ok? I mean… I’m pissed at you but… We’re still friends… You need to tell me what’s going on with you right now. Because you aren’t the type of person who gets violent.”

“I clearly am.” Holden whispered.

“You’ve dealt with worse than Wilson.” He said. “ You never physically attacked anyone before. Frankly your'e scaring the shit out of me.”

Holden thought about it for a while. Then spoke, quietly, hesitantly. 

“Bill…Can you imagine the power he had over those kids? Over god _knows_ how many kids? I… I was fooled by him… I thought he was on our side… I really did…I actually _liked_ they guy… I thought I was better at my job than that! I thought I was a better _person_ than that.”

“You felt betrayed.”

“Yeah… I know you don’t believe me Bill. But when they told me what he did… I just… I just_ know_ they were telling the truth. They were too scared and ashamed to be lying.”

“I do believe you.” Bill told him. Watching Holden's eyes widen in surprise. “I mean... I wish you had an iota of evidence or a leg to stand on legally, but for what it’s worth, Wendy and I both believe you. You have a sixth sense for this kind of thing.”

“I don’t know about that. The bastard had me fooled, and I, of all people, should have known…” Holden bit his lip, suddenly flushing with emotion.

“Should have what?” Bill asked, observing his partner's face closely.

“Nothing.”

“Should have known better? Why? We were all fooled. Why should you, specifically have known better?” 

Holden wouldn’t reply. He lay down on his side on the bunk with his face to the wall.

Bill was ready to throw the case, to go home with the full knowledge he’d allowed a killer and a rapist to walk free. To department staff reductions and funding cuts, to a BSU without his partner. He was facing up to a bleak future, and worrying about what the future held for Holden. Holden who was on the edge of a nervous breakdown… Who Wendy had said was suffering from Shell Shock.

Confronting killers on a daily basis wasn’t exactly the least stressful or traumatic thing to do for a living. But there was something else happing right now and Bill was starting to form a theory as to what, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

At around 5pm, before the sun began to set, the bell rang at the front desk. And the Deputy walked into the holding area, looking a little shocked. 

“Agent Tench?”

Bill looked up from his cards.

“You’re going to want to see this.”

In the office sat the three children, Sophie’s hair had been hacked right off. May’s was hidden under a hat. They looked a little thin, nervous, and tired but not unwell. Wendy stood beside them as though she were guarding them. 

“Hi Bill.” She smiled broadly. “These three want to talk to Holden.” 

Bill Smiled at the kids.“Has Wendy explained that unfortunately our friend Holden is currently detained in the drunk tank because he walked in here this afternoon and socked the Police Chief into the middle of next week? Who is now in hospital and unlikely to be back anytime soon?”

“I’ve explained the situation to them.” Wendy replied. We’ll take them straight to The police department in Augusta, so there’s no conflict of interest, we can’t risk anyone sympathetic to Wilson being involved in the chain of evidence. I’ve requested a social worker too. We’ll need someone _in loco parentis_ while they’re giving their statements. I think its best we do that before their parents are called.” 

“Is Holden going to jail?” Asked Sophie.

“Not if I have anything to say about it honey.” Bill told her. “You three can help by telling us what you told him, on the record.”

“Can we see him?” Asked May.

“Sure.”

When he walked the kids into the room Holden started in surprise, then a look of relief spread across his face. Bill couldn’t remember him looking that happy in months. He rushed over to the bars of his cell and reached out to shake their hands. 

“Thank you.” They whispered to him, one by one. It took Bill a moment to realise they were thanking him for putting Wilson in hospital. 

“Thank _you…_You can trust Bill and Wendy. I promise.” He whispered to them. “As soon as I’m out of here I’m going to come check on you.” 

“Wendy and I are driving them straight to Augusta.” Bill explained. Internal affairs are going to investigate the whole department here. You hold on a little longer. We’ll have you out of there as soon as we can post bail.”

“Thanks Bill.” Holden smiled. “I’ll be fine, just go help them, please.”

“You bet… Oh and Holden?” He turned at the door.

“Yes?”

“Good catch. I don’t know how you figured it out, let alone how you got them to trust you.”

xxxxxxxxxx

The statements were given to Bill and Wendy, with the Augusta Police Chief, Deputy and a social worker in attendance. Wendy knew which questions to ask and how to ask them, But it didn’t make it any easier to hear the answers. Bill found himself having to take a break at one point during Clives interview. His hands were shaking as he tried to light a cigarette behind the two way mirror while the little boy tried to explain what had happened to him while struggling to define it. The kid clearly didn’t fully understand what sex was yet… But he’d experienced… Well… More than anyone should ever have to… Bill felt physically sick listening to his high, unbroken voice redolent with shame and confusion and fear. 

And his was only the first statement… Albeit the most important one, because it involved Bobby’s confession to him, and Wilson’s threat. It seemed that whatever had happend to May had ocoured a while ago and that Sophie had escaped him all together. _Thank Christ!_

Bill knew that without physical evidence it would be tougher, although not impossible, to prosecute. Clive still had the shadow of a bruise on his throat from where Wilson had choked him. No one else had a mark from Wilson (Waylan Scarsdale had left bruises on his girls, however, that would be dealt with in a different case.)

The kids were emotionally exhausted and drained by the time Bill finally called their parents that night. He arrested Bill on the way into the building for suspected child abuse. What happend after that was not in his hands. It was legal to beat your kids, within reason, in Maine. It was up to a judge now, what constituted ‘reasonable.’

Amy Conners ran to Clive, embraced him, then burst into tears rocking him in her arms as they both wept. June Scarsdale stood in front of her children silently, and did nothing. The social worker pulled June into an office and spoke to her for close to and hour while Bill sat outside with the kids. Sophie sleeping on the hard bench with her head in May's lap. Bill's jacket acting as a blanket.

"You've been real brave today kid... I don't think I could have been so brave. I promise you things will get better from here." He said.

"You think so?" She replied. " I don't know...I'm so angry all the time, and now I don't have Bobby..." She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. 

Bill sighed. He thought of all the damaged people he'd met this year alone. All the grief. He looked down at the top of her head. She was so small but had accomplished so much. 

"May... I see a lot of victims of violence in my job and you know something? Most of them end up ok. Wiser, more compassionate... A smart kid like you? You're going to be ok. And you'll always have your sister, and a good friend in Clive... You never break a bond like that."

She nodded to herself. After a while he asked her the question that had been burning in the back of his mind since that afternoon. 

"So kid. What finally made you trust Holden enough to come down and talk to us?"

"Mmm? Well... I didn't at first. I thought he was just another adult. Then... He told us a story... And we changed our minds."

"That so? What kind of story."

"A true one."

"About himself?"

"Yeah."

"Any chance you'll tell it to me?"

"Nope."

"Ok then."

She smiled sadly, stroking her sister's shorn head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I lied. Theres going to be another chapter... We need closure.
> 
> I hope people are satisfied with end of the case.


	7. Green and Dying.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral, a confession and forgiveness.

** _Three weeks later:_ **

_Some kids get saved, some slip through the cracks, some just disappear and don’t come back._

Holden knew that better than anyone. But it was still hard to stand in the cemetery while Bobby’s small coffin was lowered into the earth. He looked over at May and Sophie, standing with their mother. Finally falling apart in each other’s arms. 

Their Father lived in Midway now, 30 miles away, as dictated by the restraining order. The Reverend Cunningham said Psalm 34, the pauses punctuated by the wailing of the girls. Clive stood with them. No longer afraid to be seen with his friends. He pulled Sophie into a hug and kissed the top of her head.

_Goodness and mercy all my life_

_Shall surely follow me;_

_And in God's house for evermore_

_My dwelling-place shall be._

Holden didn’t think he believed in God anymore. Or Goodness. Or Mercy…He still had a lingering faith in Justice. 

The charges stuck. There would be a trial. And yesterday two more kids had come forward. Gunn hadn’t fired him, on the contrary he’d slapped him on the back and congratulated him on a job well done. then congratulated him again on knocking out a pervert, albeit with an official censure about unprofessional behaviour. Gunn had understood, he said off the record, that sometimes a man just can’t take the injustice. Sometimes you’ve just had enough. 

Wendy was also officially cleared to join them on future cases. That was after he and Bill had walked into Gunn’s office and demanded she get the credit that was due to her for keeping the show on the road in so many ways. She’d kill them if she knew. 

So it had been a success... Technically. Only one death, not really 'their thing', it turned out. Although they’d probably prevented many more…But it didn’t feel like it. He’d taken a few days after the case. But returning to work had felt like a mammoth task. He’d been trying to fake some enthusiasm but he knew Wendy and Bill saw straight through him.

Bill and Wendy stood beside him and they watched as the family each threw a fistful of earth onto the coffin. Then took their turns along with everyone else.

They left the family to their grief, walking silently down the gravel path to the car park. Someone called his name.

“Agent Ford!” He turned to see Amy Conners running over to him. I was hoping you’d be here.”

“Hello Mr’s Conners.” He put out his hand expecting her to shake it. But instead she hugged him, then and Bill and Wendy. 

“I never got a chance to thank you properly, for saving my son.”

“How is he?” Asked Wendy. She’d made herself responsible for finding a good trauma specialising therapist for the children. One that wouldn’t try and pathologize Clive’s sexuality. 

“Oh He’s… Better… Better than he was. Dr Spurges is wonderful with him… He’s Improving all the time. He still… He’s still got problems with trust and anxiety. But I feel hopeful for the first time in a while.”

“I’m so glad to hear it.”

She took Holden’s hand in hers. “I wanted to thank you, especially… Agent Ford. If you hadn’t done what you did… He wouldn’t be here right now. Thank you for your courage.” 

She took her leave of them and went back up to the grave.

In the car, as they drove back over the carpet of bright leaves, No one felt like talking. Honestly Holden felt exhausted. He could sleep for a month… If he could sleep at all… Which he couldn’t since he threw his valium away. Again.

After a while he noticed that Bill wasn’t taking them back by the usual route. Instead heading out over the bridge. He recognised the rest stop, the one by the lake. Bill pulled in. 

“Lets take a walk.” He said, “No rush to get back is there? Might as well enjoy the New England fall.”

The lake was , if possible, even calmer and more mirror like than the first time they walked there. Wendy didn’t say anything but the look on her face said it all. She took off her heels and walked in her nylons on the flat rocks. She looked like a child, Holden thought, just… At peace with herself. Eventually they all sat together on a large, flat area right at the edge of the water.

“So…” Bill broke the silence. “I know this was a win for us… But… I’m feeling kinda…”

Holden and Wendy were taken aback at his frankness. Not expecting Bill, of all people to talk about his feelings.

“…Like I could do with a vacation from everyone and everything.”He continued. “You?”

“Same.” Said Holden. “It’s been hard to shake this one.” 

“Agreed” Replied Wendy. “Although I’d do it again in a second... Holden how are the panic attacks?” 

Holden smiled at how she slipped it in there. “They’re … There… But not like before. It happens maybe once a week now. Not every day like when we were out here… I guess being out of the field helps. But that’s not going to last.”

“This case really fucked you up.”Bill observed helpfully. Holden looked up to see both their concerned damn faces looking at him.

“Um… Did you guys bring me out here to shrink my head?” He asked. “I’m ok. I’m not going to kill myself or destroy the unit. I’m fine.”

“Thats a pretty low bar for fine.” Bill said. “And yeah. We want to talk to you.”

“Oh God!”

“He can’t help you now.” Bill smiled. “ Dr. Carr is on the case.”

“I’m fine Wendy.”

"I’m bringing in a new protocol for the BSU." She said.

“New protocol?”

“Debriefing.”

“You want to Debrief me?” Holden was confused.

“In this context it means unburdening. To each other, After every case, every interview if we need to. There will be no judgement, no sarcasm Bill, no avoidance Holden. It’ll be mandatory… From now on, we are honest and open with each other at all times. We aren’t doing a normal job. We don’t have to have a normal working relationship. We don’t have to be polite or spare each others feelings. We need transparency. Nothing we say while debriefing will be used against us in any way, or make it back to head office, or out of the room, no matter what it is.” 

“Wendy… I’m ok… I don’t need to…”

“You have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” She interrupted, simple, straightforward and to the point.

“What?”

“PTSD… Its a..”

“I know what it is Wendy. I don’t have it.” Holden said, picking at a pebble by his shoe, studiously averting his eyes from both of them.

“Panic attacks, hypervigilance, insomnia, nightmares…”

“That doesn’t mean I have…”

“Avoidant behaviour.” Continued Wendy.

“Denial.” Said Bill. “ We aren’t judging you Holden, we just want to help.”

Holden was getting irritated, and fidgety, he stood up and began to tap his foot. “I won’t let it affect work I promise…”

“This really isn’t about work.” Bill said. “If you quit tomorrow we’d still be having this conversation with you…”

“WHY? Why the _hell_ would you saddle yourself with me if you didn’t have to?” Holden threw his hands up in frustration. “I can barely stand to be around myself! Why would you bother?” He cringed at the sound of his own voice echoing across the lake.

“I’m guessing you didn’t have many friends growing up kid.” Bill said sadly. “Or you wouldn’t need an explanation.”

He shook his head. Swallowing around the lump in is throat that signalled an oncoming panic attack. 

“Only Child, Army Brat, moving around all the time.”

He nodded. Looking more miserable than they’d ever seen him.

“Something happened to you…” Wendy said quietly, watching him freeze to the spot “…And you told the kids about it, to gain their trust… Didn’t you?”

“This whole case bought up bad memories for you.” Bill continued. “It’s obvious.”

“S..So what…” Holden stammered. He started pacing up and down the rock. “I only told them a little... I can’t….” He was physically shaking all over, no breath coming into his lungs, he felt like his knees were about to fold under him but he was too stiff to move.

“Easy… Just let it out.” Bill said gently. “It’s ok, It’s just us out here. No one else is going to know.”

Something about that statement helped. Holden felt his heart rate slow down. “You can tell us anything.” Wendy said. You’re safe.”

_Safe_… He thought he didn’t know what that meant anymore... Yet he felt it now, maybe for the first time since he was ten years old. He continued to pace for a while then he started to speak hesitantly.

“I was Ten years old… I was living on an Army base in Connecticut… My dad was a Staff Sergeant … He wasn’t ok…After the Second World War… then Korea… He said to me once that the only reason he didn’t kill himself was Me and Mom. He'd seen the most terrible things… Do you know during the war, when he was just eighteen years old… His platoon helped liberate a concentration camp?He wasn’t… Mentally ok… But He was great. He was a great dad… I… Loved him…”

He was less shaken now, narrating his own story was helping. It made it sound like fiction. That was good.

“Then Vietnam kicked off and he stayed home… He was working in administration… But in '58 the Lebanon crisis happened and all our forces were in Asia... and the Army was drafting unwilling kids off the street they were so desperate…We… Mom and I… Were sure we’d lose him. If he went on active duty… That we’d lose him…The nightmares, the screaming at night… Poor Dad.” His voice broke as he spoke, his eyes brimming with tears. 

“So Mom… She put in an appeal to the higher ups. Stating his war record… His… Mental problems… All the things that would make him a better investment to keep at home… She took it to his COs… She took it all the way to the General…”

Suddenly the story felt more real. His memory was assailed by the image of a tall man with white hair and empty eyes like a shark. He took a deep breath. 

“The General was impressed by Dad’s war record. He’d been in the same platoon as Ike Eisenhower… The liberation of the camps was kind of legendary…He wanted to meet him and shake his hand, he said. It was a big deal, meeting The General. Best clothes and combed hair. We were all invited to his house for dinner…Best behaviour, we were all model citizens. And the General really liked me, cause I was a cute little kid… And he really liked Mom and Dad… And he said he’d do what he could to keep Dad out of an active war zone… See if he could get his name off or on some list or other, to keep him at home… But here’s the thing… He didn’t _guarantee_ anything.”

Holden was breathing heavily, Talking so fast he could barely understand himself. His jaw was shivering like he’d just had a swim in ice water. Tears rolling down his face and dripping into the rock. He felt strongly humiliated by his lack of control but found he couldn’t stop talking, or crying, or moving, he was moving, moving his feet scraping the rock. He watched his feet. He watched the water the sky, anything but Bill and Wendy._This was easier with the kids. _Said a voice in his brain. _Don’t look at them. Just talk. _

“So like I said. He took a shine to me. Had no kids of his own, my parents were fucking delighted. He wanted to take me fishing, He wanted me to mow his lawn, he wanted me to carry his golf clubs… He wanted to take me out for the day to town… He… He… Just wanted _me_ I guess…” He paused, squeezing his eyes shut. “He said… He told me… He could keep my Daddy safe at home, or send him away and I could see him on the news, in the jungle, getting shot at every evening… And it was all up to me… My choice.” 

He heard his own voice crack as he stifled a sob. His throat rejecting what he was saying… _Remembering the touch of the man’s hand on the back of his neck… _He tried to flick the phantom sensation away.

“So I chose to save my Daddy of course… I didn’t understand what he was doing to me… I thought… The first time... I thought that he was _murdering_ me… That I was going to die…In a shameful way… But I was still just a kid… I didn’t know what he was…Or what he was doing… Just that I hated it…”

He gasped for air…

“And I hated him… And I hated myself most of all… And there was no escape… And it went on fo the better part of a year.. And one day he really hurt me… And I thought… Maybe I’ll go throw myself in front of a train… Then it will be over… Then I thought about trains and busses… I ended up packing a bag and sneaking onto a train. I ended up in New York and got picked up by the cops two days later… After that my parents figured I was very , very unhappy in Conneticut and thought I was homesick. So they made plans to transfer… Dad got a diagnosis of Manic Depression… Which I don’t think was accurate, but he was discharged… Eventually… The General was no help anyway in the end. We moved on… I moved on… I never told anyone…I made myself kinda… Forget about it… It went away when I told it to after a while.”

He stopped pacing and stared across the water at the golden forest.

"Then… One day when I was finishing Highschool... I walk into the kitchen and Mom says ‘Oh you remember the General? Our friend, the one you liked so much? He’s dead, he died last week in his sleep… It says in his obituary that he started running young cadets program. For kids aged nine to thirteen. Isn’t that nice?’”

He wrapped his arms around his own body protectively. Everything around him suddenly felt far away, misty. He saw the linoleum of his old kitchen floor under his feet instead of the flat, grey rock.

“And I… Remembered… And realised then that it was eight years ago… That he had eight whole years on this earth, to torture another child, one that might not have been as lucky as me… He could have spent Eight years doing that to so many kids… And it was my fault for not telling…”

His vision faded to a grey mist… He felt numb all over.

He felt arms around him, one around his shoulder, the other under his elbow. He instinctively cringed and tried to escape the touch with a strangled cry. 

“Easy…Shhh…. Sit down, you’re about to fall over.” 

Bill Tench’s steady, calm voice. _It’s Bill, it’s just Bill… _Had he said that out loud or in his head? He let Bill help him lower himself to the rock. Sitting on the rock made him feel less adrift, the world around him slowly came back into focus. Still avoiding looking ahead he stared at Bill’s hands. One on his arm, rubbing up and down, the other gripping his wrist. Not hard but firmly _there_. His fingers squeezing Holden’s pulse lightly. 

He vaguely heard Wendy’s voice behind him, she was saying something to Bill. He heard the rumble of Bill’s reply but didn’t register the words. 

“Holden… Look at me.”

He shook his head. 

“It’s ok… You’re ok… Look at me.” He raised his eyes. Bill was crouching in front of him. He looked devastated, his eyes were red, and wet.. He looked over at Wendy. She’d been crying too. She moved over to him and put her arm around his shoulder.

"Thank you for telling us." She told him. " I know that wasn't easy."

“Sorry…” He said… “I don’t know what happened.”

“I think you were having a flashback.” She said. “And don’t apologise.”

They sat silently for what felt like hours, looking out at the lake, Holden didn’t have any more to say. Despite the sick feeling of shame seeping into his stomach, he felt lighter. Bill kept a steadying hand on his shoulder. 

“You know none of it was your fault right?” Bill said eventually. Holden closed his eyes. He knew, logically that it wasn’t. Even his silence wasn’t… But he couldn’t make himself believe it.

“Remember May and Clive?” Wendy said “Hiding in that shack instead of talking… Did you judge them Holden? Did you judge them as harshly as you judge yourself?”

“No.” He whispered.

“They’re both older than you were.” She said “ You were just a little boy… Without a Clive or May to help you. You didn’t even understand what was happening to you…" 

“I’m sorry” Bill said horsely. 

“Why?” Holden asked “For what?”

“That it happened at all… The very last thing I’d wish on anyone… Let alone you.” He reached forward and hugged Holden, and for the first time since Kemper, Holden didn’t flinch.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The drive back was long and it was late by the time they reached the city limits. Wendy was driving. Bill sleeping in the passenger seat and Holden in the back. After the lake, he'd felt lighter. But now he was exhausted, It was a Saturday tomorrow. Thank God.

Wendy pulled up outside an unfamiliar building. "Where are we?"

" My place." She explained. "I have a spare bed and a couch, you're both staying tonight."

"Thats not necessary Wendy.”

“I’m not leaving you on your own tonight.” 

He couldn’t argue with her, not right now.Bill was difficult to rouse and just nodded when she told him. 

Wendy’s apartment was just as stylish and minimalist as he’d imagined…. Not that he’d imagined Wendy’s apartment… Well maybe he had at one point…

He and Bill dragged their bags and themselves into her living room and collapsed onto the couch. Holden could have fallen asleep right there. Wendy offered tea. 

“ You know what? I’m gonna have to hit the hay.” Bill yawned. “Picking up Brian early tomorrow, I’ll try and sneak out without waking either ofyou.”He, perhaps subconsciously, tousled Holden’s hair as he got up. “Night Kid.”

Wendy bought a pot of chamomile to the coffee table “Goodnight Bill. See you Monday.”

Holden let her pour his tea and place the cup in his hands. She bought some bedding over and laid it beside him on the couch. “Here, if you get cold there’s another blanket in thetrunk by the door.”

“ Thanks Wendy” he whispered as she sat down beside him, putting her stocking feet on the table. “For everything…I mean it.”

“You did something incredibly brave today.” She told him. “It takes a lot of strength to be vulnerable. Strangely… Not something I’ve managed in my own life.”

“I don’t feel strong.” He said. “ But I feel… Lighter. Its like I was carrying this heavy thing for so long I didn’t even know I was carrying it anymore. It was always just there. This… Fear that I bought everywhere with me.”

“It might still sneak up on you from time to time.” She said. “Talking about it doesn’t mean it goes away. But now at least you know what it is, when it rears up you can identify it and contextualize it… Makes it easier.”

“How many people do you think have mental problems stemming from… Stuff like that?” He asked cautiously. Thinking of their subjects, so many interviews, so much hidden from sight.

“A lot.” She shrugged. “Impossible to say because people don’t talk about it.”

“Do you think that’s why I got interested in sociopaths and sadists? To try and make sense of it in some way?” He sipped his tea. 

“Only you can answer that.”

“Do you think I need to see a therapist?”

“Not necessarily…But if you want to I can recommend one.”

“ I think for now I’ll stick to whatever this is.” 

“ It’s called friendship Holden.” She smiled. “ I know, It’s new to me too… I’ve never found interacting with people easy either.”

“Are you also carrying secrets Wendy?” He asked, looking genuinely interested. 

“ Isn’t everyone?”

Holden suddenly blushed and looked away. “I was wondering…. Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it.”

“Ask away.” 

“Elmer Wayne… The story you told him…Were you really in an abusive relationship?”

“You’re not asking the more obvious question.”She said quietly, staring into her teacup. 

“Wendy you know I don’t care about that right? I don’t care that it was a woman… I care that she was shitty to you.”

She swallowed thickly. Not expecting the surge of emotion she felt at that simple declaration. 

“You know yourself…" She said" ...Its harder to get help, or even to help yourself, if you can’t tell anyone… I’ve had… Mixed reactions from people when they’ve found out. Makes me cautious.”

“I’ll bet.”

“If I hadn’t moved out here… I’d still be under her thumb. No confidence in myself, no satisfaction in my work, no sense of purpose… No sense belonging. … You know I didn’t even say goodbye to her?I just…” She trailed off.

“ Just ran away.” He said.“To join our circus… I hope it’s been worth it Doctor Carr.” 

“Best thing I ever did.” She said, eyes shining. “We save lives … That makes it worth anything.”

Later, as Holden drifted off to sleep,he wasn’t troubled by nightmares. For the first time in weeks he had peaceful dreams. One of them lingered in his memory long after the woke up:

_ There was a hugeforest with bare trees… Viewed from above. Golden leaves carpeting the ground. Bright winter sun illuminating everything starkly. In the leaves, throwing and jumping into piles, there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of children in bright clothes… Playing. Their laughter echoing everywhere. He knew, in his dreaming mind, that these were all the children they had saved and would save in the future. Generations of youth and life. In among them he heard his own voice, still high and childish and innocent.Shouting with the joy he still knew was in his soul somewhere. _

_ The Joy that couldn’t be taken away.  _

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well thats all folks. I hope you liked it.


End file.
